The Wanderer Trilogy 1: The Newcomer of Redwall
by Michael Forester
Summary: Sometime in the near future, a young man with a dark past is taken from our world and thrust into Redwall's. There, he confronts an evil and powerful wolf who seeks to destroy all in his path. Rated M? because my greatest critic said so.
1. The Newcomer of Redwall: Prelude

The moon shone down on the sleeping world in its eternal, seemingly omnipotent majesty, seeing and knowing all, but sharing none of its secrets. The night was cold; crisp autumn was slowly seeping into an unusually cold winter. The night's watchful, caring presence was not lost on the lone traveler in the black cloak, strolling down an old dirt trail with the help of a walking stick almost as tall as its owner, for she carried a profound limp without it. She smiled quietly to herself, walking in solitude and slightly amused that she could find such peace in something so simple as the night's presence.

She lifted her head, the hood falling back onto her shoulders, exposing the graying stripes of her fur, stripes that used to bear a striking contrast to the white accompanying them, now melting further and further into an odd, dusty kind of gray. The air was nicely frigid against her face, the moonlight as bright as high noon, easily lighting her way. Her dark, brown eyes followed a bright streak of light that left its temporary mark upon a small portion of sky. Odd, she thought, that after all she had been through, the wars, the bloodshed, staining her fur on the gore of vermin, that she didn't have higher standards of relaxation. At least, that's what he would have said. A great, warm smile graced her lips, thinking back to him. Yes, he would have wondered how silence could be solace, darkness a comfort. She chuckled softly to herself, an old song they had shared touching her lips, the memory so strong that she did not even realize she was singing out loud.

"Tonight, a hurricane....Touch me, hurricane...."

Her voice, still strong and sweet to hear (although old age had given it a slightly rougher edge), trailed off, melting into the night, another secret for the moon to keep. There, on her left, at the top of the next rise, was a large, black....mass. Like some beached monster of yore, it loomed above the road, casting its shadow against the sparkling moonlight. Her pace quickened, the cloak's bottom beginning to scrape up a tiny cloud of dust. There, she thought, is a perfect camp for tonight. She, like most creatures, enjoyed the outdoors and sleeping under the stars, but she preferred to have a comfortable bed and a warm room, a fact she had shared with few people during her lifetime.

The roadside inn, currently populated only by a mouse and his wife, was quiet, slow. They had had next to no visitors (customers, really, but there was really little difference between the two.) to their quaint housing for at least three days now. The husband, Nathaniel, was sitting at the bar, tapping a twig against the wooden counter. His wife, Aurelia, was staring out one of the windows opposite the road, a dazed, waking-comatose look in her eyes, her body being there but her mind somewhere far away, probably someplace where there were customers.

Three loud, heavy bangs reverberated, split, echoed, and refracted into and around the high, vaulted ceiling, causing both of them to jump to their feet in surprise. Seconds of dead, stony air passed between them, and each looked at the other, wondering if it was nothing but a phantom noise induced by boredom and stagnant imaginations, when it came again, three blunt, heavy blows onto the solid oak door. Nathaniel padded across the threshold slowly, fear and excitement filling him. A bang and a half in, he threw open the door, expecting a wolf, maybe, or some other terrible vermin that would kill him and take his wife. Instead, he was confronted by a tall, wide mass of dusty gray fur. His emerald eyes slowly trailed upwards, until they locked with hers. They crinkled gently as she smiled and said "May I come in?"

The mouse nodded quickly, stepping aside quickly. The huge badger passed him, graceful and elegant even in old age and hindered by the oddly tall cane. She placed her bulk in one of the chairs, reaching into a pocket and drawing out a small bag. It clinked lightly as it she tossed it on the table. "I don't know if you'll take this, but it's all I've got. A room and a hot meal are all I'm asking, but I'll just as soon take one before the other."

Aurelia smiled softly, her features betraying that she used to be painfully beautiful in her younger days. Now, though, she was just an old mousewife, who folded her paw over the pouch and pushing it back towards the badger. "We don't charge goodbeasts here, especially badgers. The room and the food are free." Nathaniel placed a steaming mug of stew in front of her and nodded slowly, taking a seat across from the giant. "Aye. Not like we could or would use your coins, they have no value here." The badger sipped at the soup once, amber eyes deep in thought. "Well," she said after a minute of deliberation, "let me repay you somehow for your kindness."

Nathaniel smiled at his wife as she sat next to him, covering her paw with his. "Well, ma'am," he started, "The wife and I have been running this inn ever since my father died and left it to us. One of the things we love most of all is to hear the tales of our guests."

The old badger slipped off her cloak, letting it fall over the back of the chair. "A tale, then, is it? Aye, I've got one, a real whopper. I would know; I lived through it." She leaned forward, the mice unconsciously copying her movement, cupping her mug and staring into it. "Many seasons ago, there came to my home an odd and amazing warrior...."


	2. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 1

The Newcomer of Redwall  
Book 1: The Stranger (or Heaven's End)

Simon Gilnom

Simon Gilnom had a strange set of eyes. It's not that they were a strange color (they were, a soft shade of brown that had slipped into an odd orange color during puberty), it was how Simon saw through them. He lay on his back in a valley ringed by trees, surrounded by grass that stood an inch above his shoulder, covering first one eye, then the other. An odd way of winking, someone walking by might have thought. His hand blocked sight from his left eye, and the blue sky above turned slightly green. His hands switched positions, now covering the right eye, and the sky's blue was added to and enhanced.

When he was a child, he would spend hours in his bed, soft music playing on his small CD/radio contraption, gazing up at the dripping white ceiling, covering each eye in turn and letting his mind wander. Questions, and their answers (sometimes) flooded into his mind, like 'Why does the paint drip like that? Did it dry that way? If so, the painters would have had to put down plastic or something to protect the furniture or floorboards....' or; 'Women, what is WRONG with them?' or even 'What was that guy saying in EOE that was so important it had to be ed-'

BOOM!

Simon was on his feet instantly, drawing his machete and holding it towards the direction of the sound. He was dismayed to find his fingertips trembling slightly, and he gripped the blade tighter.

(Coward)

"Shut up." He muttered from the corner of his mouth, eyes scanning the treeline for movement. The world silenced itself to him, his tunnel vision narrowing to individual points before he even knew his mistake.

(Fool)

"I said SHUT UP!" His eyes focused.... THERE. He charged forward, roaring, the blade raising above his head in one smooth motion, and he only had one second to wonder why the air in front of him was ripped like paper, frayed edges and all, before he charged full force into it.

(Slick, dumbass)

"SHUT UP!!!!"

Martin

Guh-plunk!

The sky above was clear, blue, with only four fluffy clouds in the whole visible expanse of it. Below, birds were reflected in the water as they passed overhead. A bee droned to itself, buzzing from flower to blooming flower, in no great hurry. Noontime had passed an hour ago, but to the young mouse, an hour was forever. He sighed heavily, tossing another rock into the abbey pond and watching the great carp surface to nibble at it.

Guh-plunk!

Martin laid back against the tree, turning his head and looking over at the sword of Redwall propped up next to him. He took the hilt of the blade in his paw, laid it out in his lap, and unsheathed it slowly. His fingertips trailed over the cool metal in silent wonder, his reflection flashing back at him, scarcely believing that it had been less than four seasons had passed since he had been captured and subsequently rescued. And it all come down to this: He was BOR- "Whatcha' doin', Martin?" "GAAAHHH!" The mouse fumbled at the sword's grip, scrabbling to his feet and baring the sword (still inside its sheath) at his attacker. Elmtail chuckled, dropping out of the tree. "You're a little jumpy today, Martin." Martin tried to catch his breath, putting the sword aside, glaring at his companion. "That was unfair, Elmtail." She giggled. "You look funny when you're thinking." She paused. "You look even funnier when you're scared. You didn't answer my question. What were you doing here all by yourself when we have to set up the tables for the feast tonight?" The mouse grumbled. "Feast, celebrate, feast again, that's all we DO!" He kicked up a small cloud of dirt. Elmtail tilted her head, reaching into her robes and withdrawing an apple, starting to bite at it. "So? It's better than the alternative. Would you like another Slagar to visit us?" Martin gave an involuntary shiver. "No! I still have nightmares. What if....what if something amazing and wonderful happened to us?" Elmtail settled against a tree, cocking an eyebrow. "Like?"

Martin frowned. "Like....I don't know, something huge, something that would change all of us forever." They both gazed over the water silently, Elmtail chewing her apple. She tossed the core at him. "C'mon, silly, we need to get to work." He grabbed the core from the air, looked at it, shrugged, and tossed it over his shoulder into the lake. The carp surfaced again, nibbled at the core, found it edible, and grabbed it, taking it to the bottom of the lake.

Matthias

"What do you think?"

Matthias blinked, glancing down at Cornflower. "Think? Of what?"

She smiled up at him, the love she held for him not diminishing in her increasing age. "How quiet and peaceful it is now."

Matthias smiled, standing up and stretching, offering his paw to his wife to help her up. He chuckled softly. "I'm actually quite fond of it, but I saw Martin today. The poor boy is going out of his mind with boredom."

Cornflower smiled, more of a smirk, taking her husband's paw and hoisting herself up, out from the comfortably soft grass under the shady tree. "Poor boy my footpaw. Stealing food from the kitchens, putting wet moss in our sandals, tainting our drinks with lemon juice. And that Cheek is doing nothing but encouraging him!"

The two started walking down the dirt road, heading south towards the Abbey. He feigned a hurt voice. "But.... You fell in love with a mouse like that."

She giggled. "Yes, I did." She sighed, the nearly painful nostalgia clearly evident in her voice. "But that was ages ago...." She looked up at her husband, a slightly pained look adorning her face. "We're getting so old, love."

He nodded. "I know, I hate it, too. But there's nothing we can do about it. Besides, as much as I enjoyed growing up the first time, I'd prefer not to. I might get a different ending."

She leaned against him gently as they walked, a warm, comfortable weight.

BOOM!

One moment, Matthias was feeling the pain of old age, the next, he was feeling the pain of a dislocated shoulder, but, more importantly, NOT feeling his wife on his arm. He saw her body, laying sprawled unconscious about five lengths ahead of him. He whirled, drawing his dagger (for coring apples, of course, never to be used in combat, for what combat was there?), and his jaw dropped.

There, floating in front of him, was a tear. Like a cut of a dull knife through existence itself, its edges frayed and flapping in the solar wind. He could see INTO the rip, saw a different world, a bastardization of his own, waters black, forests dead, the air was thick and brown. The cut silently started to fold in on itself, healing like a wound in existence's skin.

Matthias turned, remembering Cornflower. He raced for her, skidding over the loose dust to be at her side, shaking her, feeling over her body to check for injuries. "Cornflower?! CORNFLOWER!?!"

Auma

Auma had her arms crossed over her chest, frowning down at the two otters. "No." She said firmly. They looked up at her with the widest, most innocent eyes they could muster, and asked again, "Pllllleeeeeeaaaaaaaasssee?" They asked in simultaneous, whining voices. Auma glared at the two. "Why should I let you two attend the feast when you were trying to sneak out of the Abbey's walls?" They looked at each other, then up at Auma, the taller one, the sister, the eldest, Kayla, stepped forward and a bit in front of her brother. "There is nothing to be afraid of out there. I know. I have heard from Martin that his father and grandfather killed so many vermin that none dare come near the forest, much less the _ABBEY._ Anyway, we were just going to pick some berries before the feast." She stopped for a moment, and then tried another angle. "Haven't YOU ever been hungry before a feast?"

Auma smiled a bit, kneeling to put her paws on the ottermaid's shoulders. "Then we can go together." She glanced over at the worn out area of grass where the benches and tables were set up. "I haven't been to many of these feasts, but I DO know how hungry one can get thinking about all that food. We'll just have a few pawfuls and come right back." The otters looked at each other and smiled broadly, their eyes twinkling. Auma, always pleased at the happiness of the young ones, opened the north door, thinking to herself how she had felt like an older sister to the younger Abbeydwellers ever since the feast celebrating their return, when they had bunched up around her, the concept of another, younger female badger them. In fact, she-

"AUMA!!!"

She snapped from her thoughts, stepping in-between the noise and the young otters unconsciously before realizing how familiar the voice was. She looked to her left and saw Matthias staggering towards her.

"AUMA!!!"

She raced over to the mouse, gathering up the limp form of Cornflower in her arms. She gaped at the bleeding mice, trying to form words but finding that her vocal chords had suddenly stopped working. All she could do was mouth "What? What?" Matthias pointed to the road, not even able to form a sentence, making sounds like

"Tah.....Tear.....Suh.....Someth-...."

He dropped to his knees, grabbing at his shoulder briefly before going limp, shock totally controlling him. Auma turned when she heard soft whimpering behind her. Kayla and her younger brother looked from Auma to the unconscious Cornflower to the wide-eyed and immobile Matthias. "Wh-what h-happened to them?" The ottermaid asked, stuttering in fear.

Auma swallowed several times, then uttered three hoarse, painful grunts. "Get. The. Abbot." They stared at her blankly. She shuddered violently, closed her eyes, and barked, "NOW!"

The two otters nodded in fear, turning and bounding back to the Abbey. The huge badger was left to look down at the mice, the wise and noble friends of her Father's, reduced to limp bags of fur and meat. A huge sense of futility washed over her, and she stood there, trembling.

Simon Gilnom

Simon grunted as he awoke. He frowned, thinking that he had had a very strange dream, but he could not remember falling asleep against a tree. Nor did he remember putting his backpack on the other side of the road.

....Road?....

He was on his feet in an instant, looking around for any potential threat. "Shit," he muttered, wondering what happened.

"Come on, you know exactly what happened."

He growled low in his throat, more animal than most people could muster. He turned and confronted Ross. "That," He stated, "Was an impossibility. We both know it." Ross smirked, leaning back against the tree. "There are a lot of things you call impossible that you know full well that happened. Like the hou-" But Simon glared the remaining words from his mouth. "Don't you DARE finish that sentence." Ross raised his hands defensively. "Fine." He pointed at Simon. "You're bleeding." Simon blinked, followed Ross's pointing with his gaze, and saw that he was indicating his cheek. He put his fingers to it, and they came back with a streak of blood. He frowned, walking over to his backpack and taking out an old, tattered towel and scrubbing it at his face. He saw that there were flakes of dried blood covering the fabric. "This blood is almost dry. How long was I out?" Ross shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"

Simon pulled the pack up and onto his shoulders. "Weren't you awake?" Ross snorted. "Awake? How could I have been awake if you weren't?" Simon eyed him. "You've done it before; you tell me."

They both turned to the south simultaneously. "Someone's coming," they murmured. Simon glanced around, running over beside the tree and grabbing his machete from the ground. Ross watched him in silent amusement, humming softly to himself. "Dum-de-dum. You do realize that anything over the size of a medium dog could get past that." Simon ducked into the underbrush next to the path. Ross rolled his eyes. "Wuss."

Simon didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Shut up."


	3. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 2

The Newcomer of Redwall

Book 1: The stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)

Chapter 2

Matthias

_What's going ....Something's the matter with Cornflower...._

_She's right over there...Why can't I reach her? What happened?!_

_Something's wrong with my arm...Something about the road...._

..._.Road?....._

_Something happened..._

_But...Cornflower...Cornflower is hurt, !!!_

"CORNFLOWER!!!"

Matthias sat bolt upright, panting, awash in cold sweat, looking everywhere for Cornflower. Seconds passed, and suddenly a tide of pain swept in from his shoulder. He hissed breath through his teeth, eyes turning to slits. Sister May placed a gentle paw on his chest, using firm pressure to lie him back down. "She's fine," She said in a stern voice, "Resting, but you needn't worry about that one, no, right now we're worrying about that shoulder." She sighed softly, wearily. "Always hate to do this, but it's got to be done."

He watched her travel to the other side of the bed. "What's wrong with my shoulder?" He asked quietly, using his good paw to wipe sweat away from his eyes. She placed her paws under his armpit and on his elbow. "Snapped it right out of joint." May looked up at him quickly, then shook her head, murmuring "Later." to herself. I'm terribly sorry about this Matthias, I wish I could have done this while you were asleep, but," She jerked the bone upward, wincing as Matthias roared a bark of pain. He yanked his arm away instinctively, closing his eyes and putting his other paw on his shoulder, rubbing it. "Ow. Will I be okay?"

Sissymay nodded. "Yes, although I don't think you'll be able to drill the troops today." She wrung her paws briefly. "I'm worried about leaving them in the care of that mad rabbit, I swear, look what he did to that poor otter son of his, tsk tsk." He smiled comfortingly, relaxing back against the pillow. "Relax, Sister. It's only for one day, how much damage can one creature do in one day?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "How much damage? HOW MUCH, you ask. Look here, Matthias, that blasted rabbit could lay this whole Abbey to waste in an hour if he had the motivation to, I swear, he-" Matthias blinked in surprise, reaching over to lay a fingertip on May's lips, silencing her. "Maybe you should go check on my wife." She inhaled, getting ready for another rant. "Please?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. She glared at him, and he could see small bags under her eyes, and irritability and sleeplessness behind them, before slipping away with a "Clothes on the table."

He laid back again, wiping a new line of sweat from his brow, exhaling in relief. He frowned, thinking of that....Thing. The tear, he supposed. What WAS it? Why did it exist, and what purpose did it serve? He closed his eyes, a habit he had acquired for deep thought.

Auma

"Where are you going?"

Auma froze, turning slowly. Sam stood against the northern wall, arms crossed over his chest. His tail flicked a bit as he started to walk towards her. "Auma? Where are you going? Is this something about Cornflower and Matthias?" She nodded quietly, feeling a bit guilty and not quite knowing why. Sam pointed to her hip. "Why do you need a sword?"

She glanced down at the blade strapped across her waist, fingered the hilt uncertainly. When she when into the armory, she had had a perfectly good reason, but now, before Sam, she drew nothing but white emptiness. "I...I, uhh, well, Sam..." He nodded, "Yes?"

"Sam, you...You really don't know what you'll meet out there. Whatever it was, it was strong enough to hurt Matthias and Cornflower that badly. I don't want that near your Abbey, Sam." Sam stood next to her, and a small smile grew over his strong features. "OUR Abbey, Auma." She smiled, a bit embarrassed, and nodded, her head sinking a bit. "Yes. " They walked, almost casually, towards the road, then turned north, first strolling, then jogging, then running, and finally sprinting down the beaten, dusty road, panting raggedly.

Simon Gilnom

They were coming, and coming fast. Two of them, at least. They had to be running flat out to make all that noise. "What are you going to do?" Ross asked, sitting beside the road. Simon shrugged a bit, leaning out of the brush. In the far distance, framed against a nearly perfect blue sky, was a huge stone building that he could hardly make out. Oddly shaped, too, with high (high as far as he could judge, To him they were less than an inch high, blurry as well, even to his 20/20 vision) towers. For WHAT exactly he had no idea, though. A thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

"Ross?" Ross nodded a bit to show he was listening. "Wouldn't it stand to reason that, given the lack of asphalt and cars and stuff, and the abundance of trees, that we have been put somewhere rather remote?" Ross nodded again. "Wouldn't it ALSO stand to reason, then, that if there is a group of people to build that huge building down the road there, that they would be cooperative and most likely friendly?"

Ross opened an eye, turning towards Simon a bit. "Got a point. What are you getting at?" Simon stood and began walking out to the road. "Well, if they're friendly, then they're more than likely to point us back towards Alaska, at the very least."

Simon stepped onto the road, and thought to himself '_Those two must be awfully close by now,'_ before something big, thick, striped, and, most importantly, solid as a brick connected with his skull, making a crack like a metal beam splitting a length of wood, knocking him cold.

Sam

Sam skidded to a halt four lengths up the road from the thing. He whirled around, astonished. "Auma! Look!" The new thing lay on its side, crumpled and useless, bleeding from a cut that looked like it had tried to heal and then got split open wider than before. Auma rubbed her elbow as she turned. "Ow. Look at what?" She gasped, her eyes going wide and her jaw going slack. "Sam! What is it?"

Sam was busy cautiously approaching the thing, reaching towards it, mumbling to himself quizzically as he placed a paw on the thing's shoulder. It was long...No, tall, he supposed, taller than him, at least, and wide. Huge, even. He used his fingertip to explore the fold between the thing's back and its red pack. "Is it alive?" Auma asked. His paws stared to explore over the thing's neck, and yes, there, pulsing slowly but rhythmically, was a pulse. "It's alive, but unconscious, I'd guess." He turned to her. "What do we do?"

She knelt beside him. "Take it to the Abbey, get it to the infirmary." She started to pick it up, when Sam grabbed her paw. "Wait. What if this is the same thing that hurt Matthias and Cornflower? Do we want it in our Abbey?"

She shook her head, pulling her paw away. "And what if it's an innocent creature? Do we want to leave it here? Sam, regardless if it IS the thing that got to Matthias and Cornflower, it's currently unconscious in the middle of the road with a head wound, and I'M the one that hurt it! I say we take it, and sort all this out later." Sam stared down at the creature, debating silently.... "Alright. Let's take it. But we'll get rid of it at the first sign of trouble." Auma nodded, grinning, hoisting the thing over her shoulder, saying, "We'll deal with it, IF there's any trouble."

They started down the road. "Who knows? This thing," She gave the pack a pat, "Might turn out to be a sensible, useful, non-violent," She shot a glance at Sam, "addition to our Abbey."

Sister May

She sat next to Cornflower, stroking the poor mouse's paw. "Poor dear. "She mumbled to the other, then sat back and sighed softly. "At least you're not in pain, darling, or in danger of losing your only line of protection to some mad hatter hare." She nodded, paused a moment, then leaned forward. "Cornflower, I...I know I can't tell anyone this, but you're a real friend to everyone in the Abbey, and I guess if I were to admit it to anyone, it would be to you. Who are you going to tell, anyway? I've always felt so...So very useless here, in this infirmary, and, well, I've been thinking of going to the Abbot and renouncing my position. I'm not sure if I can, but....I want to try. I'm sick of seeing so many creatures sick and injured and pained....and you look so....very helpless, laying injured like that, Cornflower....I know this makes me sound like a coward, and I know I am...."

Her voice trailed off, leaving the silence of the room to overtake her, Cornflower's soft breathing the only thing breaking it. Sissymay placed her elbows on her knees and her head in her palms, resting her eyes. "I guess I'm just tired, Cornflower. I can't get any sleep at all lately." She muttered. She would sit here for a moment, just rest her eyes. She swore to herself that she wouldn't sleep, she wouldn't sleep, she wouldn't sleep, she would- "May?"

May jerked upright, clutching her chest, feeling her heart jackhammer her ribcage. "Cornflower? You're awake? You gave me such a fright..." Cornflower placed her paw gently on May's shoulder, smiling soothingly. "I'm sorry, May. I feel a bit better now. Although, I don't see why you would want to leave the infirmary." May folded her paws in her lap, her eartips reddening. "How much, uhhm....How much did you hear?"

Cornflower patted the shoulder under her paw. "I heard enough, Sister. But are you sure you want to leave?" May nodded, and Cornflower laid back, and coughed softly. "I think I caught something a few days ago. Maybe I should rest."

May turned to her patient. "Are you sure?" And then she saw, she SAW! And screamed, staggering backwards without standing, knocking over a small table and scattering the items on it. Cornflower's fur was matted down with yellow pus that oozed steadily from her open sores, mixing with the blood leaking out of the cracks along her face and lips. She smiled again, and this time a long, flat strip of flesh broke off, splitting from its bone anchor audibly, a long, dripping red worm of meat that used to be her cheek, exposing a long line of grinning white teeth. It flapped and wriggled as she spoke. "Does it look bad, May?" Cornflower, or whatever this monster was, sat upright slowly, starting to slip off the bed.

May's eyes widened, the whites glistening, raising her arm as the thing took a shambling step towards her. The flesh under the fur was rotting quickly, peeling off and falling with wet slaps onto the stone floor. "Help me, May." It mocked her, its face starting to melt away, eyes terrible white orbs that looked right at her. May could see the muscles working to propel this abomination towards her, to raise the arm. A finger, the ring finger, exactly, slipped off. Did not fall off, SLIPPED off, the flesh and tissue and tendons sliding from the individual bones smoothly. May's eyes followed it during its fall, all the way to its small plop onto the floor. May gasped as the horrible, putrid stink hit her nose, the stench of disease, the smell of putrid death, like thousands of bloated corpses all popping at once.

Cornflower took another step forward, reaching down, and May knew that if she swung at it, her arm would sink into its abdomen slowly, breaking flesh and muscles and intestines. Then it would get STUCK, stuck in some horrible sucking wetness, the flesh and blood and muscles healing around it, pulsing and writhing sickly, drawing her in, first her shoulder, then her torso, then ALL of her, pulled horribly into the other mouse's lower torso and she would be one with, be as that creature, sick and rotting and dying before others, only to spread the sickness! She screamed, tried to crawl back, but instead felt her arm swing, totally out of her control, connecting solidly with Cornflower's side and

"NO!!!"

May had fallen off her chair while she slept. She vomited, then crawled away from the puddle weakly, curling into a tight ball, whimpering softly and clutching at her head, eyes wide with terror, too afraid to even blink away the tears that had started to leak from them. "Why is this happening to me?" she whispered, but got no answer.

Sam

"Umm, sisters?" Sam peeked his head into the infirmary, glancing about the room. A mouse's ear wiggled, and its owner turned to him. "Yes Sam?" She said, starting to walk over. Sam glanced over his shoulder, not opening the door, then turned back, muttering to her, "Is Sister May in? We have a....A special case for her."

The mouse nodded. "You can come in, Sam. We don't bite." Sam shook his head. "It's a bit more complex than that, Amelia. Please get Sister May." Amelia turned on her heel and walked over to one of the side rooms, and looked in. She gasped, her paw flying to her mouth in surprise, then flinging the door open and dashing in. Sam glanced at Auma again. "Something's happened. I'm going to go see what."

Sister May was huddled in the corner of the room, a small puddle of vomit a half a length away from her, shuddering violently as Amelia tried to sooth her. Sam walked over to the sobbing mouse quietly, laying a paw on her shoulder. She flinched visibly, trying to draw further into the corner. Sam looked at Amelia. "What's wrong with her?" He asked, and Amelia shrugged. Sam stood, turning to ponder what to do, and he saw Auma, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Where is it?" Sam asked, gesturing to her empty shoulder. "Sleeping in another room." She answered, peering over Sam's shoulder. "Is Sister May alright?" Sam shook his head, answering, "I don't know." Amelia turned to the badger. "Auma, please get Sister May into that bed over there." Auma nodded, walking over and picking up the shivering mouse, starting to take her to the empty bed next to Cornflower's.

May looked at the sleeping mouse and shrieked, squirming in Auma's arms. She held onto the mouse tightly, looking at Amelia. "Get her into another room." She said. Auma grunted distractedly, striding from the room and trying not to drop May.

Sam started for the door when Amelia spoke up behind him, "Sam." He turned, and she continued, "Sister May has told me of nightmares plaguing her dreams of late....I wonder if this...." She let her sentence hang frayed in the air. Sam shrugged, giving her the answer that he naturally drew as a part of his life at the Abbey, "Ask the Abbot." She nodded, and walking back to the puddle, listened as Sam left the room.

Auma

Auma stood over the sleeping thing. She had disarmed it and removed its pack, leaving it in the corner of the room. She had bandaged the cut very well, and was now simply watching it sleep. Her nose twitched a bit, and she smiled. "Hello Jess."

The squirrel closed the door, standing above the creature opposite Auma. She looked down at it silently for a few minutes, then said, not removing her eyes from its face, "Sam told me everything. Do you think the thing has something to do with May, Matthias, and Cornflower?" Auma said nothing, simply touched its forehead.

Simon slept on, and dreamed.


	4. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 3

The Newcomer of Redwall

Book 1: The stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)

Chapter 3

The sunlight filtered through the dust-covered window, setting all the wooden surfaces aglow with the afternoon's rays. The two figures sat at the tale under the glass. One was taller, wider than the other, sitting across from him. He cupped a large, wooden mug. The other, smaller and female, had her paws wrapped around a glass filled with amber liquid. She pushed her glass over to the first, who placed his hand, wrapped tightly in leather straps, forming some sort of glove or gauntlet, onto the mouth of the glass. Two perfect cubes of the drink separated and solidified themselves, floating to the top with the tiny bubbles trapped in them, at least until they melted. "I love how you can do that." She said, taking her glass back. The sunlight flickered through the drink, reflecting and refracting, setting little amber splotches onto her fur as she sipped at it, and shivered. "Makes it a lot stronger as well as colder." He nodded slowly, taking a longer quaff of his beverage than her, setting it back on the table with a solid _clunk_. "There's a subatomic explanation for that." He paused, then said, "But I suppose you don't care about that." She smiled, shaking her head and watching the ice clink about in the glass. "No, not at all." She set the glass back onto the table, trailing her fingerpad around its rim. "You went against your code." She said solemnly. He shrugged, drinking again. His arm came up and wiped off his lips. "Given the circumstances, I think I can make an exception." She took several more sips of the hard liquor in her glass, almost finishing it, and said, "You still killed her." He sighed in frustration. "I...I know, but she HAD to die, and...." He swallowed the rest of his drink quickly, and threw ten silver down onto the table, far more than was needed for both their drinks combined. "And I shouldn't have to argue for or convince anyone that my actions were the right ones." He stood, walking past her quickly. She looked at where he had been sitting for a moment, then jumped to her feet and went after him, crying, "Wait!"

_what is this?_

A lone creature stood before a pair of huge wooden gates. Its face was shrouded in the shadows of its hood, but there were two bright ovals of red glowing like hot embers, full of power and hatred and

_and rage _

It put its hand on the center of the solid oak gates, fingers splayed wide, covered in blood and dirt and grit, the embers disappearing momentarily. Seconds passed in total silence before the gates expanded and exploded outward, one rat instantly crushed under the corner of the left gate, the right bouncing on the hard dirt road, exploding into splinters, long and deadly slivers of wood blowing outward into the dark mass of creatures on the opposite side of the road, seeking out eyes, ears, throats and

The female otter with the missing ear stood over him, her foot on his chest, laughing as she pressed the tip of her sword against his throat

Three weasels stood at the helm of a ship, one of them huge and muscle-bound, as big and as strong as the badgers, the second looking at land with blind, all-seeing eyes, the very air around him rending itself to insanity, the third rubbed his paws together, energy crackling around them, spilling over with

The wolf, the dark wolf, the evil wolf, the hated wolf the wolf the wolf thewolfthewolfthewolfthewolf

_WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?!_

He could smell it, the acrid scent of burn flesh and hair settling around him like a robe, burning the hair in his nose and singing the ones in his sinuses, reaching into his very MIND as the ground, the grass, the trees, even the AIR burned!

_MOM?! DAD?! SIS?!_

"You know where they are." Ross's voice come from beside him, entwined with the stench to form some hybrid of sensory input that made him want to vomit. "Look." He pointed to Simon's right, and he turned, they turned, simultaneously, unwillingly (in Simon's case) unable to turn away or even close his eyes as he looked over the three charred, blackened corpses, the skin burst open in ugly patterns like mountains and valleys, the peaks turned a sooty black, the blood a darker red than the meat, still pumping from the bodies.

_NO! KEEP THEM AWAY!_

"You know I can't do that, Howard." Ross said, sneering and picking up the smallest of the three corpses, the only one with its head still whole, pinching her bloated cheeks to make her mouth form words. "Howey," He said in a high-pitched, vaguely female voice, "You stupid fucking prick, you killed me." Simon staggered back, his legs coming free, falling heavily, trying to scream and failing, the cry hardening into a lump in his throat.

_No Katie I swear it was Dad I swear Dad did it I saw him please don't be mad I-_

Now the other two corpses were rising. The female of the two had a huge, gaping hole, almost a crater in the back of her head, her left eye gone entirely, the bits of gray matter dripping through the empty socket. The male counterpart had a similar hole, this one right between his eyes. Simon could see, in some sick double vision, the back of his father's head, completely missing the back portion of skull, still pulsing blood, the brain completely obliterated by the bullet, the top of the spinal column visible. They stumbled to join Kate and Ross in some sick, burning family portrait, His mother's left cheek raised in a sick grin, the right cheek torn off by the shard of bone that had been pushed forward and out of her head by the .44's fist shot.

_God o no god o god o god o god stay back I'm sorry ross did it I swear it wasn't me I loved you Katie I loved you I loved_

Ross walked over to him, putting something heavy, cold, and familiar into his hand. "Howard, you little bastard, there's nothing to worry about." Simon flinched, knowing what the thing was. The .44 they had used that night, the night of fire and smoking skin and "Get. Up." Ross demanded, "Get up right now." Simon shook his head, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

_PleaserossnoohnojustgoawayanddiealreadypleasediediediedieDIE! _

He leveled the gun in between Ross's eyes. He smirked. "Just like Dad?" He asked. "Go ahead, prove me right, show me that we did the right thing, that you ENJOY doing the right thing." Simon shuddered violently, the gun shaking visibly.

_don'twanttoshootyourossDIEalreadykilledyouonceDIEwhycan'tyoujustDIE?!_

Ross's face turned to a mask of fury. "FUCK RIGHT YOU KILLED ME ONCE!" He screamed, his eyes showing the painful hatred he felt towards his twin.

_ididntmeantokillyouididntyourestillaliveinmeALWAYSINMYHEADOUTOFMYHEAD!!_

Simon gasped, throwing the gun aside and screaming soundlessly at his brother, wanting to kill him, wanting to kill him AGAIN, the hate and evil building up inside his chest and spreading to his arms, wanting to be released, hurting HIM as he would hurt OTHERS. He would last out and grab Ross's neck, snapping it in two, in three, in TWENTY!

Ross and Mom and Dad and Katie were burning higher now, really burning, making Simon sweat, their skin bubbling and melting away like wax, exposing their perfectly white bones beneath, and even those burned, the marrow popping and crackling, turning to ash to be blown away, fertilizing the steel blades of grass in this red field of hell. He felt something heavy on his shoulder, and he didn't dare turn, he KNEW what would happen if he turned, the dark wolf would look into his eyes and, and....

_and what? _

And the wolf would drown him, throw him into some deep black expanse of water and let him sink to the bottom, cold and alone with the water burning through his lungs and mouth and nose, thrashing in the straightjacket and weight that kept him tethered to the bottom, settling there to have his blue and bloated corpse worried away by fish and crabs and water demons, bits of flesh and organs floating to the surface to be eaten by gulls, his bloodshot eyes looking up at the faint sunlight, freedom far above his head until they, too, would rot or be eaten. He shook the paw off and ran, ran at full speed, the razorblade grass ripping and cutting the flesh of his feet, but the wolf was behind him, the wolf was faster, the wolf was stronger, the wolf would drown him, shove his head underwater and hold it there, laughing deeply as Simon sucked water into his lungs.

Simon Gilnom

Simon snapped away, sitting ramrod straight. His eyes budged as he looked around wildly, before realizing that he couldn't breath! He leaned over the side of the bed he was in, the stuff in his chest sloshing around, water pouring from his lungs and splashing on the cold floor, mixing with his panicked tears. He lay back, panting heavily, covered his eyes with his hands and screamed "FUUUUUUUUUCK!"


	5. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 4

The Newcomer of Redwall

Book 1: The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)

Chapter 4

Jess

She hummed quietly to herself, pushing open the door to its room, holding a platter of food from lunch. Her eyes were closed, imagining what color his eyes were, thinking they'd be a nice shade of green, or maybe some pretty shade of blue, yes, blue, definantly. Her back was turned to the bed, putting the rectangle of metal on the table. They had heard him wake up earlier, but they were daunted by the screams. When they finally got someone to check, he was asleep again. They (They being Auma, Jess, Amelia, and Sam) had thought to leave him a plate of food. "After all," Auma had said standing next to the door, "He hasn't eaten in almost two days." So here she was now, feeling rather silly to give a sleeping creature food, but she supposed she could give it to Rollo if he didn't wake up before sundown.

"Hmmmmmm."

She froze, her spine stiffening, as someone grabbed the end of her tail and started pawing through it. She shrieked in surprise and embarrassment, whirling and slapping her assailant smartly across the cheek, her dewclaws leaving shallow scratches.

The creature stepped back, more surprised than hurt, covering the rapidly reddening wound. "Hey! Ow!" He yelped, rubbing the side of his face tenderly. He pursed his lips, and Jess could see that she had been wrong, his eyes were an oddly pleasing shade of orange. "You're real!" He blurted, sounding relieved. She tilted her head, confused and uncertain, saying, "Well, yes…Of course I'm real." He nodded, grinning. "Good, good. At least I know I'm not crazier than I was before. Oh, and sorry about your tail." He looked around the room slowly. "Hey, um…You're a squirrel, right?" She gazed up at him, nodding slowly. "Yes. Jess, Jess Squirrel. How did you know that?"

He glanced at the food behind her and politely stepped past, grabbing a whole loaf of bread and tearing off a chuck, eating ravenously, finishing what would take three mice to eat in less than a minute. He smiled, satisfied, at least for the moment. "Wherever this is, y'all make a good loaf of bread." He picked at the other foods, sampling them in earnest. She took a cautious step towards him, reaching out and putting her paw on his shoulder. He turned, gnawing on a pear. "Yes?" He said around it. "Well," She started, hesitant, "You know who and what I am, now who and what are YOU?" Simon took a step back and said, "I am Simon Gilnom. I am a human, come from the magically delicious land called Georgia." She blinked at him. "Magically….delicious?" She asked, a bit taken aback. He waved the pear as if to brush away the statement. "Never mind. Where am I?" Jess smiled. "Ah. We are in Redwall Abbey. The infirmary, specifically." He touched the scar on his forehead, oddly faint for a wound so fresh, and asked, "For this?" She shook her head. "No. You've been unconscious for just over two days, Simon. We were afraid you were in a coma."

They both turned as the door opened and a large striped nose poked through, the voice behind it asking, "Is he awake?" The door opened fully, and the huge female badger stepped in, suprisingly graceful for her size. Seeing Simon vertical, she stepped over to him and took his hand in her paw. "You're awake." She said happily. He nodded. "Yeah….That I am, ma'am."

"He's a human, Auma." Jess said from behind the badger. Auma stepped back, cupping her chin in her paw and saying, "Human? Looks more hairless to me." Simon crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I'd prefer to be referred to as Simon, thank you. Who are you, anyway?" Auma smiled gently. "I am Auma, daughter of Orlando the Axe." Simon nodded. "Well, that's good. If I could have a few minutes to myself, ladies, I'd really enjoy putting on something more than these pants." This said, the two females walked from the room to report Simon's condition to Mortimer.

Simon Gilnom

"Well?"

Simon, curled up on the bed and looking at the door, glanced over at Ross and answered his question with one of his own, "Well what?"

Ross picked up the machete and fiddled with it, running his fingers along the cutting edge, drawing blood. They both bit their lower lips and winced simultaneously. Ross recovered, shaking the blood from his fingertip, saying "Well, what do you think of those two?" Simon's eyes darted, watching the crimson droplets intently. "They're not what I expected." Ross snickered, then chuckled, then threw his head back and laughed. Simon smiled silently, almost happy to see his twin laughing at something, sharing a rare moment of mutual joy. When he recovered, Ross said, "What the hell _did_ you expect, Howie?"

Simon laid back against the wall behind the bed, musing. "Well…" He started, choosing his words carefully, "It's not…The _worst_ thing that could happen, but I'm pretty sure we're not on the same great green satellite we started out on." Ross tossed the blade aside casually and said, "It makes sense…But at the same time, it doesn't. This is quite an odd situation we're in." They let the air settle into a gentle silence, allowing the statement to hang between them.

Simon hopped from the bed, the sheets were getting far too hot for his liking, grabbing the clothes left for him. "Shit," He muttered, fumbling with the robes as Ross snickered in the background, "what's with these clothes?" Finally getting the fabric in some sort of order on his body, he turned to Ross, shouldered his pack, and said simply, "Let's go."

Ross, clearly surprised, said, "Go? Go _where_?" Simon brushed past Ross, reaching for the door. "Out of here. Frankly, seeing furries living and talking is rather scaring me." Ross put his hand on Simon's shoulder and asked, "Are you sure?" Simon stopped, stood stock-still. Ross asked again, "Are you sure?" Several frozen forever minutes passed before Simon murmured, "No." Ross enforced his point, "You're a wanted killer back there. You've got no friends, no allies, just me for family, and no money. You were barely hanging on back home. Is this place really so bad, Howie?" The corner of Simon's mouth turned up in a small smirk. "You make a good point." He said, tossing the backpack aside, "You know, for a homicidal asshole." Ross grinned back and shoved his brother's chest. "Shut up."

Abbot Mortimer

The Abbot looked out over the tranquil Abbey, smiling to himself. "This Abbot stuff isn't too bad sometimes," he said to the afternoon. He sat in a chair in his quarters, the large window giving him ample view of his domain. His face, once tight-skinned and full of youth, the fur groomed meticulously, almost to a shine, was starting to show signs of his age and the stress he was almost constantly under. His face was a bit more slack these days, and his fur was beginning to go dull and gray. He sighed, reaching up and rolling a whisker between his fingertips, a habit he had started soon after the whiskers themselves had begun to loose their strength and droop. His thoughts turned to the mice and the creature in the infirmary. "What to do, what to do." He muttered, getting out of his chair and putting his paw against the glass. _Well,_ He thought, _t__here's only one thing _to_ do, of course. _He shook his head. It was his duty to see any possible threat to his abbey, but still, first contact with a completely unheard-of species was a little above him! He shook himself, what a child he sounded like! Why, he was the _abbot_, for season's sake. It was his _job_, he should _do_ it, and he should do it _well_. Having had this mental pep talk, he squared his shoulders and strode down to the infirmary, fully confident of himself.

Mortimer paused as his paw touched the doorknob. He could hear two muffled voices inside the room. _Maybe I should just wait for Simon's guest to leave,_ he thought, then countered that with, _a__lthough I'm sure he won't mind if I just stroll in._ He gripped the knob and pushed the door open. Simon sat at the edge of the bed, his tone showing that he was right at the end of a sentence, the ending being, "And I don't think that you're—" He stopped and looked over at the Abbot, ending his previous statement by exclaiming, "—another mouse!" Mortimer frowned, looking around the door to see whom Simon was talking to and noticing the few blood droplets on the wall, but realizing that the room was otherwise empty.

He stepped in, obviously confused. Simon stood and walked over to the Abbot, asking, "Where are Jess and Auma? Better, who exactly are you, sir?" Mortimer moved into the room completely, shutting the door behind him and marveling how odd this…this human from. He said, "I am Mortimer, Abbot of Redwall." He stopped for a second, then added, "You are Simon Gilnom, a human from the…magically delicious land of Georgia." Simon covered his eyes with his hand and responded, "Yeah. That's the place, sir." He cackled. Mortimer took an unconscious step back. Simon snapped his fingers and swung his arms, clapping his hands behind his back. "Okay, what do you need?"

The Abbot seated himself in a chair across the room from the bed. "It seems that you are a temporary addition to our Abbey, at least until you get home, so I have a dilemma. I can't keep you cooped up in the infirmary, and I can't ferret you around the abbey, that would be just bizarre. So, I propose we introduce you to the rest of the Abbey at the feast tomorrow." Simon glanced up from fiddling with his rope belt at the end of the sentence. "Feast, huh?" He said, then blinked as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. "Abbot, sir, I know there are mice, squirrels, and badgers here, but are there any…Other species I should know of?" Mortimer nodded, saying, "The moles and the bankvoles. And the shrews, but they are outside out walls." And so it went, for at least an hour, Simon asking questions about the abbey, and Mortimer responding to them. Then, for another hour after that, the reverse occurred, with Simon telling Mortimer an (abbreviated) biography.

-unknown-

Far away, to the north, there was a fourth occupant to the room. The wolf, his eyes closed and his power radiating, listened with empty ears and saw with endless eyes the human and his twin, talking to the Abbot of the place called Redwall. The wolf knew about the human, knew everything, all the strengths and weaknesses, his love for his sister and his hate for his brother. His fondness for red meats. All the grades he ever got. His conscious wants and unconscious desires. The wolf smiled, pulling himself back, standing and walking from his tent. It was time to move.


	6. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 5

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1: The stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 5**

**--Foremole--**

"Hurr, 'elp uffn's with thuis hurr food!" Foremole exclaimed to a group of adolescent squirrels, who snapped to attention and darted into the kitchens. This was not just any feast; this was a special feast, and everyone was on high tensions to make it just perfect. This feast was the naming of the new summer. All the naming feasts were high priority in the Abby's walls. Everything had to be exact, had to be perfect. From food to music, perfect. Feasts were, after all, a staple of the Abbey's history.

Along with wars…

Foremole frowned, wondering where that last thought had come from and shaking his head, deciding that any more thinking like that would have to wait until after the feast was finished.

**--Matthias--**

The mouse stood at his window, flexing his arm and wincing. It was still tender to move the joint, but time, as it often did, allowed the wound to heal better than expected (better, that is, with the extra time the nurses had made him stay.). He gazed over the grounds of the Abbey in much the same way Mortimer had earlier. His mind, as it had often done during the past few days, drifted back to the tare with the same questions (and, for that matter, answers) as before:

_ What was it?_

_ Why, a tear in the fabric of reality itself, of course. Don't we see _those _everyday!  
What was that…that _place_ I saw through it?_

_ Not sure, looked like some warped version of our land, though._

_ Yes, but what traversed it?_

That last one was the toughest to answer. He knew that something had come through the tear, of course. Something like that _had _to have someone or something come through it. Unless it was an everyday thing, and he rather doubted that, as the gaping holes in existence surely would have been noticed by now. He also was quite sure that it was a some_one_ instead of a some_thing_, as a some_thing_ would have, more than likely, come through immediately.

So _who_, then? Some creature of that land he saw through the opening, probably. Which in itself opened up a thousand new possibilities. What did it look like? Was it good? Evil? Too twisted to have an alignment? Did it make that…portal? How was the portal even _made_? A random coincidence of time and space ripping a hole in itself? Something more sinister than that? Matthias was inclined to believe the latter; seasons knew that he had seen stranger things in his life.

But no, he hadn't.

He sighed softly, turning to leave the room. "This is…This is insane." He muttered, shutting the door.

_"FOREMOLE!"_ Matthias's strong, powerful voice echoed over the courtyard to the digger, who stood up curtly from a table and trundled over to him, scraping dirt from his paws.

"Aye?" the mole asked, blinking up at the mouse.

Matthias looked over the mole's head at the picnic spread set out for lunch as the workers rested and said, "You and your 'dwellers are doing a fine job. This will certainly be the best feast yet."

Foremole laughed softly, a deep and warm sound, and replied, "Hurr, thank'ee surr, but Oi'm thinkun that you callered me overr for sumffun more than a compliment, surr."

Matthias nodded, always amazed by mole's perceptions. "Yes, you're right. I'm…Quite concerned."

The mole sat in a soft, shady spot of grass, and the mouse followed suit. "Hurr, what's ail'n you, surr?"

Matthias plucked a blade of grass, nibbled on it thoughtfully, and softly murmured, "Well…I don't know…"

Foremole leaned forward on his digging claws and asked, "Rurr, what wos that?"

Matthias raised his voice a little and said again, "I don't know. That's the problem!"

Foremole frowned, pushing his claws into the dirt (a comforting habit of Foremole). "Please, tell Oi wot you'rr tryun to say, surr."

Matthias chewed on the grass a bit more, and related to Foremole the story of the portal and Cornflower. "And now I'm afraid to go see her," he muttered at the end.

Foremole nodded sagely. "Oy. Oi'merr thinkun that's a real problum, surrr."

Matthias smiled sarcastically. "Oh, it gets better than that. I'm absolutely positive that something…Or someone came through that opening."

Foremole smiled back, directly into Matthias eyes, and asked simply, "Woy do you curr so much, rurr?"

Matthias' brow furrowed in thought. "It could be a danger to the Abbey, no?"

Foremole went on smiling and said softly, "Oi'm thinkun that it's sumffun else, surr." The mole stood and clattered his digging claws together, shaking the dirt from them. "Excuse Oi, but Oi've got a feast to prepare, surr." With that, he turned and left the dumbfounded mouse behind.

**--Cornflower--**

The evening sun shone red through the infirmary's windows with a crimson brilliance that played over Cornflower's softly sleeping features, lighting up her fur with a heavenly glow. The shadows beside the windows and in the corners were steadily growing as she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in her surroundings with quiet reassurance. She had known she was in the Abbey. She did not know _where_ in the Abbey, nor how she knew her location in the first place, but she could guess that she was in the medical area, due to the fact that her bed was unfamiliar and the room contained no personal accents of a lived-in area.

She let her headrest back against the pillow as she thought over what had happened. The last thing she could remember was getting hit in the small of her back by something huge and heavy, her spine popping loudly in her ears as her head cracked loudly against the hard dirt road…

She shivered, cupping her paw over the lump the impact had given her. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and then winced, putting a delicate paw on her lower back. For the past several seasons, the rains and cold air had caused that particular part of her body to grow sore, as well as a few aches and pains in the joints of her paws, and the little spat with the…_whatever_ that had hit her hadn't helped at all.

A small smile crossed her features; _I sound like my Grandmother!_ She thought in humored exasperation. Cornflower rested her weight on her footpaws for the first time in…four days? A week? Even a month, maybe? She wasn't sure, but as she stood, she guessed that it couldn't have been more than a few days, as her legs came back to life fairly easily. She staggered a bit as she walked to her window, gazing through it at nothing in particular, thinking of how happy her Matti would be to see her up and about, and how see would see her grandchildren, and…

Cornflower started awake with a tiny gasp. _Asleep again?! What's wrong with me? I have to get May and… _

Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a terrible smell. It was pungent and awful, wafting from the back shadows that had grown in her mind's absence. She covered her nose and blinked several times, murmuring, "What a stink!"

She stumbled, trying to breathe through her mouth, but even then she could _taste_ it, and it was horrible, like rotten fruit and swampland. Images floated through her mind as the smell permeated her very skull, eating into her thoughts like acid, horrifying pictures floating through her brain. Death, mutilated corpses, chunks of meat left after the wolf was finished, dried husks of bodies left strewn about under a glistening web of…hair? Or metal? Something…

She felt his powerful paw on her shoulder, and she whirled and saw him, saw the wolf. Cornflower stumbled back, from the hideous, diseased thing, who spun the very shadows into his web, wrapping it around her muzzle and silencing her. She fell back against the wall, trying to scream but having it silenced by the astoundingly strong webbing.

His lips parted in a smile, exposing serrated teeth of thick bone and a sick, swollen black tongue, his breath hot and ripe with fetor as he spoke, whispering, "Don't fret, little mouse. You are not a sacrifice to the goddess, nor are you a meal for me. You, beautiful victim, are simply a warning. Now, this will only hurt a little…"

His claws, encrusted with dirt and dried blood, green with disease, sliced her flesh open easily, and she could _feel_ herself as the wolf's infection spread through her, hot and painful as the disease migrated towards her spine and brain. The whole thing was over in a matter of seconds. The dark wolf took a step back, catching the mouse as she slipped into sleep. He easily brushed away the silken black webs and picked her up laying her gently on the bed. His fingers, horribly long and freakishly thin, toyed with one of the metal rings that pierced his body, a homage to his goddess, for his was a belief of pain and power, that one would always come from the other. He stepped back into the shadows and disappearing into his native darkness.

**--Abbot Mortimer--**

Mortimer faced a problem. A very, very serious problem. Cornflower had just been reported as having a powerful fever and Matthias didn't know about it yet. The creature…No, Simon, was being shuttled like some common _criminal_. And, on top of it all, the feast was less than a day away. Mortimer chewed on one of his claws nervously, trying to think.

"Maybe…no…but maybe if…no, that won't help either…" He sighed heavily. It was not the immediate problems that worried him, it was the aftermath. The tension of a feast's preparation was bad by itself, but add onto that that Simon's presence and Cornflower to worry about…things could just spill over.

Mortimer shoved open his door bleakly, walking down through the hallways and passages, outside into the orchard and warm night air. He sat heavily at the edge of the pond and closed his eyes, brushing his ears back with an absent paw. He looked glumly at the moon's reflection in the pond, clear and bright in the summer night.

"It's pretty."

Mortimer started, hopping awkwardly to his feet in instinctive fear, almost stumbling backwards into the pond. He peered at the dark shape concealed by the shadows of the trees. The shadow moved forward, sitting next to the mouse and falling onto its back, looking upward. "Relax." Simon said simply, then turned his head to look at the Abbot and smiled. "You're a little jumpy, aren't you?"

Mortimer nodded, almost in shame, sitting back down at the water's edge. Simon turned his attention back to the clear, full night sky. "You know," the curious creature started softly, so softly that Mortimer had to strain to hear him, "Back in my home, there were never this many stars. You could never see such a clear moon at night. I suppose that this is pretty much a normal thing for you guys, but for me it's rather interesting. Your constellations are completely different from my world's." He paused thoughtfully, and added, "If you even have astrology. I suppose not."

Mortimer looked over at Simon quietly for a few minutes, then replied, "Well…we do, but it's not something I know too much about."

Simon closed his eyes and smiled again, then nodded, murmuring, "Understandable."

Mortimer looked back at the silently rippling water, strangely uncomfortable. What was it about this creature that made him so uneasy? He had always been comfortable around crowds and strangers, but this newcomer was just…beyond him. He mused over his thoughts for a spell, before glancing over at Simon again and realizing that he had been totally silent. Mortimer reached slowly over, his fingertips trembling inexplicably. His digits were right next to Simon's head when the human's hand flashed out and gripped the mouse's wrist, crushing the bone as his eyes opened. Mortimer uttered a startled yelp, trying to pull away and getting halted by Simon's grip. The human relaxed the savage grip slowly, finally releasing the Abbot's paw.

Mortimer looked at Simon for an explanation, but he only shrugged and uttered, "I'm kind of high-strung, too." He became somewhat relaxed again and asked, "What are you going to do about Cornflower? She's really sick."

Mortimer shook his head, saying, "I don't know. Tell Matthias and let the infirmary staff take care of her. That's all I really can do."

Simon got to his feet and dusted himself off. "And what about the wolf? What are you going to do about _him_?"

Mortimer blinked in surprise. "Wolf?" He said, turning to look at the human…But Simon had already vanished into the shadows. "What wolf?" He asked the darkness.

Mortimer did not sleep well that night.

**--Sister May--**

Matthias gazed at the female mouse. "What?" He asked her in barely hidden astonishment.

She glanced down at the floor and said again, "Cornflower is ill…I mean…She's terribly sick, Matthias…she's got a fever so high it's steaming the cloths on her brow, and…and I think she's slipping into a coma…"

Matthias stepped towards her, intent on passing her to get into the infirmary, but May stepped in front of him. "Matthias, no. Don't go see her. She's _highly_ contagious. She's already made three of the sisters ill with fever." Matthias clasped her shoulders tightly, glaring at her hatefully…then…slowly…the hatred turned into sorrow…he let go of her shoulders and stepped backwards, turning and stumbling away from her in mute emotional numbness. She raised her paw and took a step after him…but stopped. It wouldn't do any good. All the harm had been done.

Matthias was already infected.

The wolf's sickness was spreading.


	7. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 6

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1: The stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 6**

**--Matthias--**

The mouse coughed. He sniffed miserably, wiping his paw at his dry and runny nosetip. "Dis id 'orrible," he muttered, taking out a folded piece of cloth and blowing his nose into it, making a sound something like a strangled duck. His eyes hurt, his brow burned, his legs felt like stone, and the inside of his head itched whenever he tried to do any serious thinking. So he stopped thinking about anything deeper than _All this on the day of a feast!_

He had taken up residence in the infirmary, in the same room as Cornflower, since, as the nurses had said, "You're both already as sick as you're going to get, might as well let the couple stay in the same room." Cornflower was much worse off than him. She looked terrible. Her nose was dry as sand and her eyes slowly leaked tears as she gave off soft, pained whimpers in her sleep. Her fur was starting to fall out in clumps, leaving ugly bald patches across her stomach, neck, and legs. Some of the patches had turned from pale pink to a sick, moldy greenish-black. And some of _those_ were starting to literally rot, the skin turning to a thick gel that needed to be periodically drained away.

Matthias sat beside his wife's bed and stuck the handkerchief into his robes, taking up Cornflower's paw in his own and stroking his thumb over the soft flesh, murmuring soft, encouraging things to her. He coughed again, used his other paw to rub at his bleary eyes, and turned his attention back to Cornflower. She convulsed violently, crying out in what sounded close to agony, gripping his wrist in her delicate paw before quieting into a string of tiny whimpers.

**--Simon Gilnom--**

"That's it?" Simon asked, looking over the grounds from a shadowy corner of the Abbeybuilding's main spires.

Jess crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean, that's it?!" She exclaimed.

Simon shrugged. "Well, I mean…there were more people at the underground metal concerts in my hometown."

Jess furrowed her brows together in a tight knot. "A…concert implies a gathering of creatures to listen to music." She fumbled in her ropes and produced a knife. "This is metal. All it does is hum."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Metal is a type of music I...well, used to like, I guess, considering that I'll never hear it again."

Jess leaned forward a little. "Can you sing a little of it for me?"

Simon scooted back, further into the shadow, and raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

Jess smiled. "Just sing a little of this metal thing, I'm rather intrigued." Simon coughed nervously, then hummed softly and said, "Alright." He sighed and sang in a deep bass voice that resonated through the corner and formed his normally deep, gruff voice into something comparable to silk, "One…desire, one…sexual being, running like a blade, to and through the heart; no conscience, one motive, cater to the Hollow One; screaming _feed me here_, fill me up again; temporarily, pacify you…" He let the lyric taper off into silence, his blush hidden by the shadows.

Jess smirked and said mockingly, "Oh, is that it?"

Simon snorted. "I suppose YOU enjoy something better?"

Laughing, the squirrel replied, "Nothing with such silly words as that, I assure you."

Simon reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle shove. "Quiet. My music is probably _so_ much better than yours." He looked back down at the gathering of 'dwellers in the early afternoon sun. Some were bringing out plates of food, others were gathering wood for bonfires, and some were just goofing off with the little ones. He laid his head back against the stone wall and said, "What's going to happen tonight?"

Jess frowned. "Why do you ask?"

He laughed softly. "It sounds more sane if someone else says it."

"Alright," she replied, unsure, "Abbot Mortimer is going to introduce you to the Abbeydwellers tonight after the feast."

Simon chewed on his tongue nervously, and said, "I'm not sure. Maybe I should just take everything I've got and get while the gettin's good."

Jess crinkled her nose at him, "Nonsense!" Simon shook his head. "No, I'm serious. It doesn't feel right to stay here. I'm getting…some bad vibes." Jess peered at him quizzically, her gaze demanding extra information. "I mean," he continued, groping vainly for a better explanation, "Something really, really terrible is going to happen here, and it's going to happen soon, like maybe within a few days. And as much as a coward it makes me sound, I want to be as far out of here as I can when the fecal matter impacts the oscillating unit."

Jess reached over and grabbed his wrist. "C'mon, grumpy. Let's sneak you something to eat." She pulled him to his feet and through the window they had come through.

**--Anine--**

The otter's ears perked and swiveled about, focusing on the source of the noise. Night had begun to wrap its shroud around the edges of the sky, fading them to a light, dusty pink. He stood in the shallow stream, looking at the area where the noise had come from. Anine had been sent to the stream to collect various plants, roots, herbs, and small sea life for the feast, as the cooks only preferred either fresh or aged.

Anine frowned suspiciously, and then kneeled back into the bank, his quick and agile fingers poking and prodding through the shallows of the water, plucking small crabs and plants from the gritty murk with practiced ease. The light faded about him as the otter became wholly involved in his task, not noticing the flashes of gray in the trees, nor the glints of silver in the red sunlight, or even the wafting scent of rot and disease.

He yelped in surprise, raising his paw to look at the small crab that had bitten its claw into the webbing between the otter's fingers. Anine winced and chuckled, saying, "Oy! Cheeky little bum, aren't you? Alright, for your valiant efforts, you may live." Anine shook his paw and flung the tiny crab off the sensitive membrane, out into the dense woods that ringed the clearing he was in.

Only then did he realize that something was terribly wrong. The crab's leg's and claws flailed as it tumbled through the forest…and spontaneously split in two halves in midair. Anine stood up again and smelled the air, finally catching the sick, green scent. His paw dived into his robes and drew a long, curved scimitar. He twirled it briefly, gaining comfort from the strong, solid, REAL feeling of the handle in his paw.

The wound from the crab pulsed, registering as a dull stinging pain. He raised his blade and (not forgetting his original task) scooped up the basket and started to back away from where the crab's two halves lay twitching convulsively.

Anine stopped, dipped his paw into the basket, drew another crab out by its leg, leaned forward and threw it. As he bent, he saw a glint of…_something_. It waived in the air like a stray hair from some creature, and he briefly dismissed it. He felt the hair alight on his nose, then a sharp, searing pain across his muzzle. He yelped again in shock and pain, dropping both basket and scimitar, his paws grabbing his freely bleeding nose. His trembling fingers probed the nostril and found the twin openings, a clear line of split flesh. _If it's only a little cut, why is it bleeding so badly?_ he thought, before his fingers accedently slipped under the flesh and peeled the tissue away from his bone. It came off easily, blocking most of his vision.

Anine didn't yelp; he screamed, stumbling blindly and tripping. He fell on his side heavily, his own elbow betraying him and crunching hard into the side of his ribs, knocking the wind from him. He looked over and saw his foot, still quite vertical and rather unattached to his body, severed cleanly at the ankle.

He saw the glint again, and realized that it wasn't hair but some sort of metal. He saw another glint of the stuff near his left eye. Shock was starting to set in, so instead of screaming, he reached over with his right paw and lightly, barely applying any pressure, touched the thing. The webbing split his skin and muscle up to the bone before he stopped, holding his paw completely still. He bled from his muzzle and both his legs, but he stared at the single drop of blood that formed from the cut.

"Do you like it?"

The soft voice came from above him and to the right. If he could still utilize smell, the stink of rot would have nearly overpowered him. Anine turned his head weakly and rolled onto his back, staring up at the wolf that was crouched next to him, continuing with the soft, droning voice of his.

"It's like a web, wasn't that your example? And to answer your earlier question, your muzzle is bleeding so profusely because my strands have cut through the bone of your muzzle, severing the vessels that supplied blood to your sinuses. But I suppose you don't care about that right now, do you?"

The otter whimpered softly, the blood that flowed from his muzzle over his cheeks and the back of his head mixing with a few tears of hopelessness. The wolf smiled down at him and stroked the otter's ears back, his paw coming back sticky with blood. He lapped some of the blood from his paw, then looked back down to Anine. "Relax," he said, "There's nothing you can do anymore—just lay back and die."

Anine watched as the wolf took a strand of silvery fur in his grasp and pulled. Instead of coming cleanly out of his skin, the hair lenghtened. The wolf wrapped the glistening hair around one finger, then gave a yank. The hair pulled out of his skin cleanly. He wrapped the other end in a similar fashion around his opposite finger and made two fists. "You're bleeding pretty badly. But don't worry, you've still got enough left in you to sustain me for a day or two." His eyes grew cold. "I don't kill for sport, you know. I kill out of necessity."

With that, the wolf positioned his fists on either side of Anine's neck, the strand of metal pulled taught over the otter's throat. Anine saw what was about to happen and gurgled something as his eyes widened. The wolf shook his head. "I apologize, but this is the way the world works. Don't fight the inevitable." With that, he brought the razor-hair down on Anine's neck, severing his head cleanly.

Later, morning would find the clearing devoid of otter, wolf, scimitar, and basket, just as if the previous evening had not happened.

**--Mortimer--**

As Anine was uttering his pleas for mercy to the wolf, Mortimer sat at the head of the main table and wiped the weariness from his eyes, gazing around at the tables set up for the feast. It was finally here, finally time. The Abbey (at least, all the Abbey that was not sick) had been feasting since late afternoon, and the celebration was going on at full steam. He smiled to himself. Sickness, human, and personal lack of sleep aside, the traditional feast had still been held. However, he knew that this feast would have anything but a traditional ending to it.

The Abbot sighed heavily, and decided that now was as good a time as any. He called over one of the little ones, a young hedgehog. She smiled up at him as she trundled over, saying naively, "Yes, Abbot?"

He gave her a candied apple and said, "Could you get Auma for me? Here's something for the trouble." The hedgehog squeaked with youthful glee and scampered off, nibbling at the treat.

Mortimer sat back into his chair and closed his eyes. He listened to the music and the crackle of the bonfire, to the talk of the eldest mouse and the squeal of the youngest mole, to the merriment around him.

"Sir?" Auma said as she approached him.

Mortimer opened his eyes and sat up straighter, stifling a yawn. "Auma, could you please go get Simon?"

The badger nodded and walked off towards the ramparts. Mortimer stood up in his chair and surveyed the scene of jovial chaos laid out before him, and called out, "ABBEYDWELLERS!"

In response, all the creatures quieted, looking to their leader. Mortimer continued, "There are two important thins to discuss tonight. One is the naming of this season. I believe we can hold that off until the very end of the feast. The other is the newcomer to our Abbey."

Mortimer paused to gauge his Abbey's reaction, of which there was little more than a confused murmur that swept through the crowd. He inhaled deeply and said, "This newcomer is of greater importance than the naming of the season," Mortimer continued, explaining as much as he could about Simon without actually introducing him.

**--Auma--**

Auma climbed the stairs to the top of the Abbey's outer walls in brooding silence. Simon was crouched one the northwest corner of the wall, staring out to the moonlit forest. Auma stood near him and said, "What are you looking at?"

Simon hopped backwards off the edge of the wall and took a step back, putting his left hand on her back and pushing her spine so that it bent, leaving her head on the same level as his as he pointed with his other hand to a spot in the forest. "Right there. Something's happening right there."

Auma smiled awkwardly, straightening. "Let's go, Simon. It's time for the Abbey to get to know you."

Simon walked by her side, conveying his nervousness to her. She did her best to comfort him as they neared the feast. Mortimer's voice was surprisingly powerful as they approached behind his chair, in shadows due to the angle of the fire. The Abbot glanced over his shoulder and said to the Abbeydwellers, "And here he is."

The mouse stepped down as Simon stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight, into full view of the entire Abbey.


	8. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 7

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1 The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 7**

--Simon Gilnom-- 

Simon stepped from the shadows and into full view of the Abbey. There was at least a minute of deathly silence as the 'dwellers turned, stood, sidestepped each other to get a good look at the newcomer. _This is going pretty well_, Simon thought, _at least, nothing bad has happened yet_. Just then, some creature from the back of the crowd called out, "What _is_ that?"

Simon focused his vision on the general area where the female voice had originated from and replied very calmly, "_It_ is a human, ma'am."

Another 'dweller called, "Hurr, isn it a vurmunn?"

Simon leaned over and whispered to Mortimer "What's this about vermin?" But the landslide had already begun. The Abbot's response was drowned by the frightened murmur that ran through the crowd. Somebeast cried, "It _must_ be a vermin!" A hunk of bread was tossed from the mass and slapped across Simon's arm. A barrage of thrown food followed it. Simon covered his face, muttering, "This isn't what I was expecting!"

Mortimer stuttered in shock, which Simon took to be, _Yes Simon, I agree completely_. The human ducked behind the chair the Abbot had vacated as the Abbeybeasts began drawing knives and daggers that none of them could remember bringing to the feast and began advancing towards Simon's position. He frantically ran over every possible escape in his mind, and decided on simply bugging out. He peeked around the chair and grunted, this was worse than expected. The mass of creatures was taking on a palpable, singular intelligence. He knew that the intelligence was one of them, the one in the back, right there…

Galen. 

_ Yes, it's her._ He thought. Then stopped. _Who is…Galen?_ He asked the faceless mass set before him. It did not answer, but merely smiled. The faces of the 'dwellers, however, was anything but happy. More pissed-off, Simon figured. He turned and ran, the unseen signal being set out to the 'dwellers to give chase, and give it they did. Simon, if he had been in a more stable frame of mind, would have likened it to something close to a landslide. He ran flat out to the stairs, and up them, three at a time to the ramparts. The Abbey followed, almost nipping at his heels. His foot hit the lip of the wall and launched him, spread-eagle, into the darkness. The 'dwellers came against the wall like a tide. It paused, considering, and then decided that the newcomer was dead. It went back to its place.

Later, none of the Abbeydwellers, save Auma, Jess, and Mortimer, would remember the human or the attack.

--Lange-- 

The female otter, her cool blue eyes seething calculation and malice, frigid as ice shards and just as welcoming, had stayed behind the crowd. Lange Gelion was her name, although she could not remember who gave her that name. She did know several rather important things, though. That she was safe from the disease currently plaguing the Abbey was one. That the wolf was an utter fool for this attack was another. That the human would make an excellent opponent…well, that was at the top of the list to begin with.

In the light cast by the fire behind her, her eyes were seething black, yet she cast no shadow on the ground before her. The fire popped and set a cloud of embers swirling into the sky. She smiled to herself, and went to take her seat, blending in with the innocent 'dwellers.

--Simon Gilnom-- 

Ross was laughing. Simon hated it when Ross laughed; it was high and squeaky, like a mouse on helium trying to do its best imitation of some witch on TV during Halloween time, much unlike his normal voice. It made him feel sick.

Currently, however, Simon was more sickened by the past half-hour than by his brother's cackle. He wanted very badly to erase the past (Nothing new there), but, as always, he could not, so he was stuck with a laughing brother and egg on his face.

"That was rich!" Ross crowed, holding his aching side. He gasped, stopped, leaned against a tree to catch his breath as his laughing tapered of, then looked up at Simon and broke into another round of mad laughter. They had landed easily under the cover of trees and darkness after having escaped the Abbey (Far too dramatic for Simon's taste, but nobody ever really asked him about stuff like that), then set themselves on going northward, having to take a slow pace for Ross's handicapping laughter.

Ross grinned at Simon and slapped his shoulder, saying, "Come on, dickhead, yuck it up. It was funny and you know it." Simon did not consider it funny. In fact, he found it rather terrifying to be attacked in such a manner. He voiced his opinion by sneering at Ross, saying, "Shut up, Ross. It was terrible."

Ross almost ran into his brother as Simon stopped abruptly, which shut the doppelganger up quickly enough. Simon, meanwhile, looked quietly around, taking in the forest surrounding the road. Something was wrong, and Ross could sense the unease coming off his twin. Simon murmured something softly, something like, "Someone else…" He shook his head and grunted in confusion, starting forward again. Soon, a large, faded barn came into view on the left side of the road. Simon and Ross both glanced at it with an eerily similar uncaring semi-interest. Simon was more concerned about whoever was following them, and Ross was just wondering what the hell was wrong with his brother.

The bushes next to them rustled faintly. Simon whirled, hands balling into fists. Ross, however, had heard nothing. Simon's eyes darted from side to side, scanning the bushes as Ross said, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Simon glanced at him briefly and whispered, "I heard something move in those bushes."

Ross shrugged. "Maybe it's your imagination," He suggested; then, as an afterthought, "or it might be your fragile psyche finally snapping."

Simon put his hand on his forehead. "How can you be so _dense_?!" He asked, before shaking his head and continuing northward. Ross stayed behind for several seconds, frowning thoughtfully at the bush. Maybe Simon had a point. Or maybe he had finally driven his brother insane. Which, in retrospect, wouldn't be that bad.

He hurried to catch up to the real one, who said, "You believe me." Ross shook his head slowly. "I believe you've lost your mind." Simon looked a bit taken aback by then, then turned towards the barn (which they had come abreast to) and said, "Yeah…You must be really proud of yourself." Simon smiled inwardly when Ross didn't immediately answer. _Thank God, or whoever the hell runs this fiasco_. He thought.

Ross's voice came to him, and it held an uncertain, watery edge to it that Simon did not like, "Simon? Something's wr-" Was as far as he got before a loud, commanding voice cried from behind him, "_WOT'S THIS??!!"_

Simon whirled, lashing out with one fist, a wholly natural reaction, given the circumstances, although he would regret it later. The one behind him laughed, grabbed his wrist easily, and flipped him onto his back, planting a foot on his chest. "Now, that wasn't too nice of ye."

The attacker, now that Simon could see clearly, was a hare. He looked old, but still well fit. Of course, Simon hadn't been around long enough to determine age well enough, but the hare came close to his definition of 'aged'. The thing took its foot off of Simon's chest and offered him a paw up. "Yeh fly like a rock, m'lad," He said cheerily.

Simon huffed a sigh and took the offered paw, replying, "If you hadn't thrown me, we wouldn't have tested my aerodynamics."

"Ahh, but," said the hare, "if you hadn't thrown the first punch, I would not have thrown you."

Simon nodded. "Yes, you have a point. Now, who the hell are you?"

The hare took a step back and bowed. "I am Basil Stag Hare, father of Cheek the otter, master of camouflage, and the only creature in the Abbey that doesn't think you killed Cornflower."

Simon frowned. "The mouse? No, I never touched her. Why do they think I killed her?"

Basil shrugged. "Think about it. She became ill the very day you arrived."

Simon looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Listen, Basil, I need you to go back in there."

Basil's eyes widened. "Wot? Why?! Can you not see that every creature in there is ill with some madness?! I don't know if I'm immune or not!"

Simon gave him a cool, steady look and replied, "I need something from there. A red pack. It's in the infirmary."

Basil seemed on the verge of saying something, then threw up his paws in frustration and turned. "Alright. I'll go."


	9. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 8

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1 The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 8**

Basil Stag Hare 

Simon scared him. Simon scared him rather badly. Not the way that the use of swords secretly scared him, no; it was something much more primal than that. Like the cold ball that formed in the pit of his gut when he thought of snakes, or the fabled assassins, sent by the mad vermin to kill one into a slow, painful manner. And, on top of that, he was rather sure that Simon was more than just a _little_ insane. It was the look in his eyes when Basil had surprised him…Wild and desperate, filled with hatred and mistrust. Basil realized that Simon put on a mask when he was around others. However, the hare was far from interested in finding out just HOW the human had lost his mind.

That, of course, was nothing compared to the Abbey.

He heaved a heavy sigh. Out of all the creatures that were more than likely immune to the disease, why did it have to be the human? When Cheek had taken up that knife to him…Basil shivered visibly. What was terrible, he thought, was the he was sure that they _knew_ he knew what was happening. Or at least, he had an idea. They were all ill, seriously ill, but not in the way of the body. More like an infection in the mind. He shook his head in frustration. This wasn't the time, nor the place. He needed to do Simon's bidding, because, strange as it seemed, he trusted the mad human.

"What an odd place the Abbey has become lately," He murmured to himself.

Rallah Kheme 

The room the Abbey had given her had lost all its light. Not surprising, considering the sun had gone down hours ago, but still…When she first got her, the room always seemed to give off a warmth, a glow from the walls, comforting…But now, it was cold and dark here, and she knew that it would be that way, even after the sun had reached high noon. Currently, though, the female hedgehog's mind was far away, encased in the protective sanctuary of her mind as she wrote. Rallah dipped her quill into the inkwell and continued writing:

I have tracked the wolf to the far south. I got to Redwall about three days before the first infection. I believe Maliss to be amassing new army after his defeat at the foothills. I can smell his stench permeating every stone of this once peaceful Abbey. I can hear the words unspoken between him and his mindslaves. What frightens me is the speed at which he took over—less than two days were needed from first infection to final takeover, and that poor human! However, I have a feeling that this Simon creature may be a large obstacle to Maliss's design, and his sudden appearance is something far from random. Galen be honored, I believe that this, this now, this here, is the final stand for the spider. If it be Galen's will, Maliss will be dead by the end of the season. I know it to be true, Maliss's chaos is the enemy of The Seeping Order. I have come to the conclusion that my tasks are threefold: Find any others immune to the disease and escape with them from the Abbey, meet with and speak to this Simon, and ultimately kill Maliss. I will meditate, attempt to have a Sight of Maliss's encampment. It cannot be too far from here. Galen be honored. 

She wiped the quill off and set it down, capping the inkwell and standing slowly, feeling her knees crack. Her dry features split into a smile equivalent to a hacking cough.

"I'm getting far too old for this," She said to the wall. Of course, the wolf never aged…But that was from selling his soul to the Longs Miomni, the Sleeping Chaos, the Southern Star, the Male One, the Servant, the Artful He, He of the Split Feet. Several million names for He, such a false god, just as many for the true god, the Female, the Order, the Light, the Awoken Half, the Torch of the Ocean, She who made the grass grow and set the seasons right when they dared quarrel.

Rallah walked to her bed, crawled onto it, settled herself into a sitting position, and formed the Sigil of Galen with her paws, closing her eyes and murmuring, "Galen be honored, give me the sight, give me the sign. Ostendo mihi via of scelestus lupus, ostendo mihi semita servant, ostendo mihi superstes…" She began to repeat the words, slowly sinking into a liquid-like drone.

Simon Gilnom 

Simon was looking upwards at the band of stars when Ross returned. The real one didn't even look at his brother as he said, "Why do we need the pack?"

Ross sat down on the opposite side of the road and leaned his back against a nearby tree. He was silent for several seconds, then replied, "You'll find out. Just trust me, you'll need it."

Simon looked back down the road towards the Abbey, shrugged, sighed, and sat down, laying back against a tree in a mirror image of his brother and falling asleep.

Basil Stag Hare 

The north door was as Basil had left it, unlocked. He opened it a crack and peeked in, gathering what had happened in his absence. Not much. The Abbey, externally, seemed to be completely normal. He slipped in and slid the door shut quietly, then stopping. Why was he sneaking around? The only light came from the bonfires, and they were in the central courtyard, on the western side of the Abbey. Nevertheless, his gut told him to be cautious, and his gut had never led him astray. He hung close to the eastern wall, keeping tight to the shadows and slipping into the main Abbeybuilding.

Matthais 

He stumbled into the wall, sliding down it into a sitting position. His body racked with fever chills. His body baked heat. He was thirsty, delirious. He screamed out the name of his wife Cornflower. Someone came to him, put their paw on his forehead, said something. His world was a red haze of pain. He collapsed, moaning, as he was carried away.

_ You have something of mine, mouse._

I…I do?

_ Yes. And you will return it to me._

Who are you?

_ Call me…Heinpox._

What should I do?

Rallah Kheme 

She had just finished her vision when the hare appeared. He had opened her door and slipped into her room like a whisper of a shadow, almost vanishing in the darkness left by the extinguished lamp. She stayed silent, watching in quiet fascination as the hare pressed his long ear against the door and closed his eyes. She could hear his breathing slow.

He stayed like that, motionless, for a length of time before whispering, "I don't think they saw me, but it was close. I suppose that they know I'm not sick. What about you? Are you one of them?" She started when he directed the inquiry to her, and nodded. She flushed softly as she realized that his eyes were still closed, and replied, also in a whisper, "No. Not sick." She stood and said strongly, "Pareo atque moneo lupus?"

He stood and dusted himself off, stepping away from the door. She noticed that he was making a conscious attempt to stay out of the moonlight shafts cast by the open windows. "What…Doesn't matter. I need to get to the infirmary. I think that you should come with me. I don't know if you're still safe, but if you're not sick now, you may be soon. Gather your things. I'll come back soon." Just as silently as he had slipped in, he vanished again, leaving Rallah to herself for now.

Basil Stag Hare 

He stepped from the guest room of the Abbey where a Rallah Kheme was reportedly staying, out into the hallway and ducked down into a shadow as two mice walked by. They looked all right at first glance, and he almost said something, but then he saw the yellow tint to their eyes, and small bald patches at their throats.

Sick, he thought, and flattened himself closer to the wall, letting his breath out and holding it. They passed, and Basil ran, no, sprinted as only a hare could, down the hallway, diving into the shadows of an open doorway, creeping like a nightmare through the sleeping Abbey. Even though it was all false, those who were not sick would succumb soon, and some would be killed in their sleep. He hated how the wolf had them all at a disadvantage. He returned from his thoughts and stepped into the infirmary. Auma had beaten him there. Auma 

Basil thought he was sneaky, but even when they had been young, Auma had always been able to see through his 'camouflage' when others could not. Now, though, she couldn't even get past her own muddled thoughts. It was so much to take in.

The entire Abbey…And Simon had vanished. Her nose twitched and she turned. Basil was standing in the doorway of the room. She turned back to the window and looked up at the moon, placing a paw on the sill. "I don't know why I came here." She said softly, choking faintly.

Basil took a step into the room and shut the door. He put a paw on her huge shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. "Hold it together, love. We'll get out of here soon enough. Come with me, I got what I came for." He hefted the bag that she knew belonged to Simon and smiled thinly. "This is so sick," He whispered, starting to backpedal. She nodded, straightened her shoulders, and started after him.

Simon Gilnom 

The moon's zenith had come and gone; now setting, the huge and winking moon. The night and the silent water brought a steady unease to even the more evil of the pair.

Simon had vomited twice after he woke up. Ross smiled as he watched; after finishing, Simon had given him a look to kill. Simon wiped at the sweat at his brow, even though it was a pleasantly cool night. He shivered violently as Basil, Auma, and one other, what looked like a hedgehog, approached him.

Basil chucked the pack at Simon's chest and said, "Well? Let's see it."

Simon caught it and stumbled, dropping the pack and rummaging through it. "What am I looking for?" He mumbled to nothing, waited a few seconds, and nodded, unzipping one pocket and drawing out the Magnum .44. He hefted the gun in his hand and gazed at it dumbly, wiping another hand at the sheen of sweat on his forehead and groaned softly. "A gift? This is horrible…I don't want this…"

He reached back into the pocket of the bag and pulled out a handful of bullets for the gun. Small beady tears of memory were beginning to form in his eyes as he let them rain back into the pocket, continuously muttering, "I hate you." Over and over.

He jammed the gun into the pocket of the pack and looked at the others. "What?"

They gaped at him in silent, dumbfounded awe. "What is that?" The new one asked, pointing (to Simon's relief) at the pocket of the pack, indicating the gun. Simon looked at the pocket like an idiot, trying to connect everything through the smoky red haze of his head, muttering, "That…is a bad idea in the making." He looked to the north and said simply, "He's already here, but the army is coming, something like three or four days now." With that, he collapsed.


	10. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 9

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1 The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 9**

-Rallah Kheme-

Rallah was born and raised in the northern seaside colony of Narlath, inhabited by a small group of perhaps two hundred fisherbeasts, farmers, maids, and young ones. She loved her family, she loved her home, and she thought that the peace of her little town would be everlasting. They were, after all, nothing but quiet worshipers of The Torch of the Ocean, Galen Herself, strongly under the influence of Her mighty Order. That is, until the wolf had come, along with his sickness.

The sores had started to spring up on her very own mother three days before the colony was set aflame, completely destroyed. She had been the only one who had remained pure, although she considered that more of a curse than a blessing from Her. She did the only thing that she could think of: follow Maliss on his inevitable journey south. He knew she was after him and his army, and she was aware of his knowledge. What amazed her was the size of his army, his Plague, was actually very small. No more than about two hundred vermin, and none of them were wolves, either. She had followed the wolf for untold seasons, growing old and gray while he never aged a day. She thought she had seen everything in her travels...until she met Simon.

Basil was at his side in a second, fumbling to catch the falling human. The hare missed, and Simon hit the ground with a dull thud. Basil reached for Simon's head, hissed through his teeth in pain, and drew his paw back sharply, exclaiming, "He's burning with fever!"

He turned to the group, to Rallah in specific, and said, "You, hedgehog, are you a healer?"

She stammered, taken off her heels by the suddenness and severity of the situation. "I-I know a few basic things, but not a cure for the illness." Auma knelt by the human as well, pulling him off the road.

From the side: "I can cure him."

They all turned at the new voice, all save for Simon. The female otter seemed to have come from nowhere. She was taller then most of the otters they knew, and had a long scar along one arm, but was otherwise indistinguishable from any other of her kind, save for the light. The air around her almost glowed with it, and her very body gave off waves of peace. Rallah found herself being calmed, and murmured, "Galen above..." as the otter passed her, electing a smile from the new one. She approached him, kneeling as the others had, and put her paw on the human's cheek. This elicited a scream from him, striking Rallah as something of fear more than pain, but she brushed those thoughts aside in favor of the new otter.

It was Auma who broke the palpable calm with the question, "Who are you?".

Without turning, the otter shot back, "Do you really need to know?"

Auma nearly reeled. She had not known what to expect, but such a question as that! The otter was frowning down at Simon, reaching into her robes and drawing out a bottle of blue liquid. "This will help, but he is very far gone. How long was he exposed to the sickness?"

"We aren't sure," Basil replied, clearly awestruck, "We don't know how long the sickness has been in the Abbey. But please...let us know your name."

The mysterious otter turned to him, several emotions flickering through her eyes, before replying, "Fine. I am Kilel. I hail from the south. I am a healer." With that, she tilted the liquid into Simon's open mouth. The human's face was white as death and his whole body trembled. Satisfied with her work, she tucked the bottle back into her robes and stood, saying, "He'll be alright in a day or two." She blinked, looking off into the dark sky as a thought seemed to strike her. "I mean," she continued, "As well as he can get before the wolf is killed."

Kilel's soft face turned to the south, to the Abbey. "The sword of Marten, the one of legend, is in yon building?"

Auma picked up Simon's body. "Yes, but I don't think even Marten could help us now." She started north.

Rallah grabbed the pack from the ground, found it surprisingly heavy, and asked, "Where are we going?" Auma turned her head to Rallah and motioned with her snout towards the north. "There's a farm up ahead, and there's a barn there. Simon needs a place to rest."

**-Maliss-**

He stood, clad in a robe dyed by the blood of slain children, held closed by the tooth of a mouse, gazing out at the crashing waves of the western sea. He often came here, as a sort of refection. His last meal was sustaining him, but he knew another kill was coming soon. He smiled and closed his eyes. An odd thing happened as he did. His shape started to grow translucent, like a fog, then a shadow, finally vanishing altogether from the rocky outcropping.

Maliss awoke in his tent, instantly aware, as always. He stood from his cot and walked outside the tent. His mental midnight wanderings were always enjoyable, but he had more pressing concerns. The Abbey. More importantly, what was in the Abbey. He picked his way through the Plague, careful of the sleeping rodents. He was not a cruel leader, though he was insane. Acceptance of that did not change it, as he was quietly aware. He looked to the west and saw a rolling sore of clouds to the west, flashing with lightning.

"Ahh, how...melodramatic."

His voice was full of cynical semi-disgust. He seemed disgusted by everything these days. Odd for one covered in open sores and missing several pieces of the skin off his face and arms. Two days left before the long march was over.


	11. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 10

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 1 The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)**

**Chapter 10**

**--Basil Stag Hare--**

"He's going to die," Rallah murmured in a matter-of-fact manner.

Kilel put her paw on the hedgehog's shoulder and said, "Shh, stop that nonsense. He'll live." She shook her head and pulled away from the otter, wandering to the edge of the road.

Basil crawled over to Simon's pack and began to paw through it. His paws encountered clothing, rations, several stacks of bound paper, a few bright orange sticks, and other odds and ends. He took out a small, rectangular device. It was no bigger than his pawpad, and made of some semi-clear, blue solid. It was divided in half on the inside and held some form of liquid. On the top of it was a metal platform, with an opening and a metal wheel. He fumbled and fiddled with the thing, thinking of what to do.

**--Simon Gilnom--**

"Hell."

This was met with a small chuckle. Simon turned, the edges of the dreamscape blurring at the edge of his vision. The other one sat on a stump of a tree that had to be millions of years old. The new creature raised its paw and pointed at Simon, who sat heavily in the soft grass with a "Whuff."

The new one chuckled again, setting back in on itself. Simon couldn't make out any features of the intruder, for it was covered in a deep green cloak. It had a sword laid across its lap and was running its fingers over the metal slowly. "Simon Gilnom," It said, its voice defiantly male and holding some form of amazement...or amusement. He chuckled and said it again, "Simon Gilnom. The human. The Newcomer of Redwall."

Simon attempted to stand and failed, quickly learning that it was hard to be threatening if one's ass was attached to the ground. "Who are you?" Simon asked in a low voice.

The creature dropped the hood of the cloak to show that he was a very old mouse. "I," he said, "am Martin the First, defender of Redwall Abbey. And you, good lad, have a bit of a job laid out before you."

Simon decided that if he couldn't stand, he'd make the best of it, and relaxed. "I do, do I? What sort of job?"

Martin unfastened the cloak's clasp and let it fall off, reaching behind him to pool the fabric in his lap. "You'll need both of these, and I can only give you one now." He looked up into Simon's eyes and laughed. "You want to know what is going on." Martin's voice was millennia old and dry. "Where you are, what I am saying. You will learn all its meaning in good time, lad."

Simon found that the voice was soothing him, making him more relaxed. "Isn't it ironic?" Martin said, offering the cloak to Simon, "That the safest place you can be right now is the dark forest..."

Simon's hand faltered when he reached for the fabric, and the mouse shook it gently, causing a wave to flutter through the dark fabric like quicksilver. "Take it. It will be your greatest protection for seasons to come." Simon's hand touched the cloak and drew it in a ball against his chest. Martin smiled like the world's oldest, most understanding father, saying, "The wolf seeks you, seeks to kill you, but you will win. We have always won, in the end. You..."

He stopped, his head snapping around to one side. "No!" he growled, "She's found us." He turned back to the human. "Our time is short. You must find Garwind when she is born and keep her from Melgath's clutches, do you understand?"

Simon looked at him dumbly, as if he had begun speaking Greek. "_Do you understand?_" Martin roared at Simon...and the forest was burning, the trees were bleeding red sap, catching like pitch and dripping fireballs onto the dark ground, Simon nodding frantically...

Smoke

Venom

Water

Fire

Blood

Lightning

"You're awake!"

Kilel. That hurt… What hurt? Why, thinking hurt. Thinking wracked his brain like a marble launched into his skull. He rolled over and vomited and felt a paw on his shoulder. Rallah. More pain. "No, don't touch him." Kilel. She was the one that gave him the potion. Why? It hurt...

"Why not? Look at him, he's worse than he was before!" Rallah again, with an exclamation that felt like a bat hitting the side of his head.

"He's purging the virus from him!" Bullshit. Whatever she gave him was turning him inside out. Thankfully, it didn't hurt as bad to think. "Muth." He grunted. The two females looked down at him. "MUTH!" He said again, rolled to one side, and had a painful set of dry heaves.

"You're killing him!" Rallah shouted.

"Rraah.." Simon moaned. "Rallah..."

"Yes?" She said, "What?"

"Please...Stop yelling." He used a tree to stagger to his feet. "Why is it dark?"

"It's night." Kilel said. Simon looked up at the moon and grunted, "The wolf?"

Kilel heaved a sigh. "Less than a day."

Simon looked at the road. "We're going back to the Abbey, aren't we?"

"Yes," Rallah said, "Basil says we need to get the Abbot before the wolf does."

Simon staggered to the road and stopped, leaning weakly against a tree. "Smoke, venom, blood, water, lightning, fire. Do those mean anything to you?"

Rallah shook her head and Kilel followed suit, but slower, giving Simon a closer look. _Good_, he thought, _I know something she's keeping from me._


	12. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 11

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 2 Combustible: The ability to burn (or Wolf's bane)**

Chapter 11 

**--Simon Gilnom--**

He appeared on the side of the road, fever-sweat giving his pale, yellow face a sheen. He hoisted the pack onto his back with some difficulty, baring his teeth in a feral grimace. "Come on," He grunted.

Basil stood, and Simon plucked the cigarette lighter from his paws. "Careful. You'll hurt yourself." They fell in line behind him as he trudged towards the Abbey in the distance. Simon, Basil, Rallah, Kilel. In the fading sunlight, to the north, a huge dust cloud was being kicked up from the road.

Simon turned, his head spinning, and walked backwards, looking up at the cloud, one eye squinting against the sunlight. "Apocalypse cloud," He muttered, then locked eyes with Basil. "What's the safest place in the Abbey? Where would the Abbot go?"

Basil furrowed his brow in thought. He had never given that particular idea any sort of consideration. He had always thought the Abbey to be safe from its outer walls, but... "I think...The cellars, where the drinks and cheeses are stored, or the guardhouse, near the main entrance to the Abbey…"

Simon nodded and said to all of them, "We are going to find the Abbot and any other survivors. Logic insists that they would have found one another and barricaded themselves against the wolf's mindslaves. If they aren't in the guardhouse or the cellars, we will work our way upward through the main Abbeybuilding. Unfortunately, we don't have much more time. Ideally, we will have found the Abbot and the others over the course of the night and worked our way to the building to the south before the wolf gets here, sometime during the early morning hours. After that...Well...I don't know, we'll let the Abbot take over for us." He turned and continued the march to Redwall. It's sad, sometimes, how even the best laid plans can fall apart.

**--Basil Stag Hare--**

_He's insane!_

_He's the only one out of us that has any sort of plan other than just sitting on our paws and waiting for the wolf to kill us._

_That doesn't change the fact that he has lost his mind! Look at his eyes, look how...Empty they are!_

_I trust him. I don't know why, but I trust him. He's like Mattimeo, he was born to lead troops...It's in his very blood. His soul._

_He has no soul! He's just as evil as the wolf!_

_He's not evil._

_If he's not evil, then he's...he's...He's _insane!

_  
_

This mental war had been brewing in Basil's mind for the past several minutes, ever since Simon had turned his back to them. Why _should_ he trust Simon? He had known him far less than a season. On the other paw, he had that...presence about him. It was in his nature to lead goodbeasts into battle, perhaps his destiny. And on the battle raged.

Basil shook his head, trying to physically sweep away the thoughts, but to no avail. His very mind felt sore and tired, and his temper was beginning to shorten. He wanted everything to be normal; this wasn't the way things were supposed to be! At this time of day, he would have just tucked away the fifth plate of his supper, and been contemplating what to do in the few hours between dinner and bed (hours that seemed to be fewer and fewer in number). He was starting to face an inevitable truth, with age comes routine, and with more age, routines become harder and harder to break. He didn't want to grow old and grey, but he really didn't have a choice in the matter. His hands balled into fists and he glared at the human's back. It was HE that started all this. Wolf or no wolf, the sickness had come with HIM.

_Stop it Basil. This is no time for-_

_I DON'T CARE! It was Simon's fault, Simon's fault for everything!_

_Simon's fault for the birds flying away? Simon's fault for Jess's disappearance? Simon's fault for your son attacking you_

_It's not like that!_

There was another truth, just as inevitable, that Basil could not bring himself to admit... Even though Simon was mostly innocent, he would be persecuted, purely because he hadn't been there before the sickness. His paw rubbed away an itch at his forehead and sighed. The world had grown very, very tiresome in the past few days.

**--Kilel--**

The time was growing near. Very, very near. The knife was buried in the folds of her robes, with her many potions, elixirs...and poisons, the slightly warm metal bouncing against her fur as she walked.

As much as she detested the human, she needed him. Being the third party in the equation was difficult, and she had come so very close to her goal. It had been so _simple_, too; get the blade of Martin and leave, take it to The Gathering of Blades in a season's time. But the wolf, the damned WOLF had been made to attack before she could get to the Blade. But...such was life. Such was Galen's doing. It was not her place to question her goddess's orders, and she only needed the human to guide her to the Blade before she had to kill him.

_Your time is short, human; it is Galen's will._

**--Rallah Kheme--**

It was both painful and beautiful to watch Simon walk. His gate held a slumped, quiet, sustained power. He walked like a creature with a purpose, someone with a time and place to be. She hated to see him so sick, so sore, fever chills still racking his body...She pitied and envied him at once.

Time passed, they reached the door to the Abbey. Simon peeked it open, gave them a silent all clear, and slipped in, the other three following him.


	13. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 12

**The Newcomer of Redwall**

**Book 2 Combustible: The ability to burn (or Wolf's bane)**

**Chapter 12**

**--Simon Gilnom--**

He scanned the inside of the Abbey quickly and gave them a silent all-clear signal. They filed in quietly, Rallah and Basil immediately pressing into the shadows. Simon and Kilel, having less combat experience, inadvertently stepped out into the fading light. Far off in the distance, thunder rumbled ominously.

"Well," Simon started, scanning the skyline of the Abbeybuilding, "The jig is up, as the Brits say. He's here."

Rallah stepped forward, looking about nervously, eyes shooting from main door, to the parade grounds, to the AbbeyBuilding, to the ramparts, and back, whispering, "Here? Where? I can't smell him."

Simon raised a finger to indicate to uppermost spire of the Abbeybuilding. "There. Don't worry, we can get to the Abbot and form some sort of plan before he gets to us. I hope."

She glanced up at him, brows furrowed. Simon saw, out of the corner of his eye, the other two start to move towards the entrance to the cellar. "You don't know?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No. I wish I did." He waved an arm at Basil and Kilel, stage-whispering, "Get back here!" They came back, Kilel oddly calm, Basil surveying the area around him with the cold eye of a trained killer. Simon brought them into a close circle. "Rallah and I will search the guardhouse. Kilel and Basil, go to the cellars and secure them. Regardless of which group finds the Abbot, IF we find the Abbot, we'll make the cellars our headquarters for the time being. Understood?"

Basil and Kilel simply left, the hare giving Simon a quick glace over his shoulder. Simon gave him a small shrug in return.

As the two neared the cellar door, Simon took Rallah's paw in his own with a small squeeze and tug, "Come on. Let's go." She gave a small start and then a bashful look, like she had been in a small trance and was ashamed of it.

The two hugged the shadows of the Abbey's outer walls, leading towards the main entrance. "I don't like this." He said.

Rallah looked towards the nucleus of the Abbey thoughtfully, murmuring, "How do you mean?"

He released her paw uncertainly, not at all liking the dreamy quality her voice had taken since they came into the Abbey. "It's far too quiet. I don't see any of the other Abbeybeasts around here, sane or otherwise." He pointed to a clutch of dark shapes near the opposite corner of the Abbey's outer wall. They hadn't seemed to notice the pair. "Except for those three. Where _are_ they all?"

Rallah shook her head, as if to clear it. Simon's concern grew. He looked up at the ramparts of the outer wall and then at the door approaching on his right, pausing before it. "Alright. Are you ready?" She nodded, eyes dull. Simon eased the door open, using it to block his body from view as peeked into the room. He eased himself into the gloomy room, Rallah trailing.

**--Rallah Kheme--**

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Rallah had been in the Guardhouse once before, when the kind mouse Cornflower had waived her in. They had had tea and talked of pointless things, and Rallah had envied her in a quiet way. How much this old mouse loved her husband while Rallah had never in her life had a lover. She felt an empty sense of hopelessness as she left that home for the first time, realizing for what could have been the first time in her life what she had always quietly feared, that she would forever be alone, live alone, chase the Wolf alone, and finally...die alone.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ But the house was different now. The air was thicker, almost, humid with more than just water, but also a thick and muddy feeling of dread. Tables and chairs and lanterns were overturned, some shattered on the floor, as if some creature in a red rage had torn through the place. Curiously, the sword that had hung above the fireplace was gone. There had been something important about it, but Rallah could not remember what. It drew the eye, and she had been able to...Sense, that the blade was still sharp, sharp enough to cut through-

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ "_Rallah!_"

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ She started again, almost jumping this time, and turned to Simon with a thick, "Huh?". His eyes narrowed. "I said, what are you doing?" She touched her forehead with the tip of her index digit and closed her eyes, shaking her head. The thick fog of the room seemed to have permeated her brain, making cognitive thought almost impossible. _Is this what it feels like?_She thought, _To catch the Wolf's illness? Am I going to be his? Am I going to die?_ She almost screamed out, just as the blade whistled past her nose.

**--Basil Stag Hare--**

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ He didn't trust the otter. She was too convenient. How could SHE have known exactly how and what was needed to cure Simon's fever? And, something else...A certain, feral wrongness about her that he didn't like.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ The two of them had gotten into the corridors of the lower Abbey with surprisingly little resistance. A mole and a pair of mice, easy to slip past, had been in the main hall. They went through the kitchens and into the back door, down the dank steps to the basement door, Basil behind Kalil. Now, the two were standing abreast in the doorway of the basement, looking down the corridor of branching paths and doors. "Where now?" She asked, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. Basil's eyes scanned over the various portals.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ His finger raised and started counting them off. "Kitchen supply storage. Wine aging rooms one, two, and three. Ale aging rooms. Cheese storage." And on it went, until, "…Armory."

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Her paw grabbed his wrist. The line from his fingertip to the fourth door on the left was unmistakable. "There," She said, almost hissed.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ He looked at her and jerked his arm out of her grasp. A second passed, before he asked, "Why there?" She looked at him as if he had apples for a mind, "Why, they would refuge with the most weapons." He thought about saying something, about cutting her down to size, then decided that she just might be right and turned towards the door.

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Slowly, wary of attackers, he crept down the hallway. Halfway there, he pulled one of the torches from the wall. Holding it out in front of him, he nudged the door open, stuck the torch in, and saw...nothing. Nothing but a stockpile of swords, arrows, slingshots, bows, useless weapons of pointless wars, silly artifacts of-

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ _ALBA ROE!_

ྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭྭ Basil whirled and braced the torch at just the right second. Kalil's knife, meant for his heart, buried to the hilt in the wood. She shrieked, and landed a solid kick in Basil's abdomen, sending him stumbling back into the armory. The torch clattered to the floor and went out. Which didn't matter, because Basil had slammed his head against the hilt of a sword, and was rather unconscious. The otter slammed the door shut and bounded down the hallway.


	14. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 13

The Newcomer of Redwall

Book 2 Combustible: The ability to burn (or Wolf's bane)

Chapter 13

--Rallah Kheme--

"SIMON!" Rallah screamed, a second too late. The thing, whatever it was, had already stabbed Simon in the right shoulder. He grunted in pain and rolled with the blow. He dropped to his knees and slammed his left fist into the thing's face. It shrieked, tugged on the knife that was embedded inside Simon. He snarled and made grabs at the thing's deformed and sweat-matted face.

Rallah heard a soft growl behind her. She whirled, and there was another one, smaller, thinner, and just as sickening. Its eyes were a dull, lifeless gray, it's fur, like the other, was yellowed like old teeth, bald in patches, like it had some terrible disease. Rallah flinched backward, and stumbled over one of the low benches. The shorter beast chittered in glee and pounced for her, knives raised.

"NO!"

The taller one shrieked in surprise. Rallah only caught a brief glimpse of gray fur before it collided with the smaller in midair, sending both toppling over one of the long tables and out of sight. Rallah was attempting to get her feet under her when, suddenly, Simon was there, lifting her with his right arm. "You okay?" He grunted.

She nodded quickly, and as soon as he let go of her his pack toppled to the floor. The left shoulder strap had been sheared cleanly in two flapping pieces. Simon's left arm was worse. Everything from the elbow up was saturated in blood. She knew that the rest of the arm would be next. His entire arm hung limply at his side, useless as the strap of his pack.

Simon dropped to one knee and fumbled with the metal chips on its outer skin. He gritted his teeth and glanced at where the two had disappeared. "Watch my back," he hissed, concurrent with the pack's hissing as it opened. "How?" she whispered back when his good arm dove into its depths. His eyes locked with hers. "The hell should I know? Think of something, Rallah." She nearly flinched again, then stood her ground and looked around the dimly lit hall. She needed a weapon, and quickly.

Dimly lit.

Rallah raced to the wall and yanked one of the lit torches from its place on the wall and ran back to Simon. He had some large, gleaming metal object in his hands and was doing something to it. She peered closer, he was putting smaller bits of metal into the larger piece, gritting his teeth in concentration and pain. Their eyes met, and his mouth formed a quick smile of encouragement. The orange globes dropped back down and the metal cylinder snapped into the main body of the object.

"What is-" She started, before Simon's eyes flashed up again. "Rallah, eyes front!" She spun on her heel. One of the two was running flat out at her, knives raised and gleaming red in the light. Rallah growled low in her throat and cocked back the torch. The beast was racing forward, but she stood her ground, and brought the torch forward at just the right second. Burning padding and torch oil cracked into the side of the beast, sent it stumbling...Right against Simon. The human used the momentum to charge with his good shoulder. The beast hit the wall an instant before Simon connected with an audible "CRUNCH" from the beast's chest. It shrieked, blood spraying in a fine mist from its mouth.

Simon grabbed its neck with his good hand, brought it back, and slammed it against the wall again. Another glob of blood spattered from its mouth and onto Simon's arm. The human grimaced in agony. He staggered back, reaching down to get the gun from his bad arm to his good one, watching the thing with the dent in its chest. The gun switched hands during another bloody cough from the thing. Simon raised the gun, his faced turning from grim determination to sick hatred as he fired the monstrosity of a firearm twice. The thing fell to the floor, half of its face gone.

"Was that..." Rallah started, just before a heart-rending scream, painful both in its agony and sorrow, rose from the shadowy corner of the room. Simon pivoted on one foot, never lowering his gun, and empted the remaining four chambers in the corner. The scream ended in a gurgling, choking sputter, and a thud. Silence echoed through the room...

--Auma--

She slams her fisted paws against the sandstone, shaking loose another layer of dust that only gets coated by more blood. Everything below her shoulders burns like heated slag, yet still she pounds away on the yellowed wall. She has screamed herself hoarse hours ago, but still whispers pleas for help.

"That's not going to help."

She stops and rests her fists on the warm sandstone. The voice is soft and familiar, and calms her. "What should I do?" she asks the disembodied voice behind her. It chuffs, maybe a laugh, and tells her exactly what to do.

--Maliss--

"This is sickening." Maliss hissed. His meditations had informed him that a damaged human and the hedgehog that had followed him for so many seasons had cut both of his alleged "top assassins" down.

Corwyn, a rat and one of his higher generals, lifted his head from a map. "What is, sir?"

Maliss glanced at him. "The human. He seems to instill some sort of bloodlust in the abbeydwellers he leads."

Corwyn turned back to his maps. "You think I'm frightened," Maliss murmured.

Corwyn looked up again. "Sir?"

Maliss lifted his lip, baring a few fangs in agitation. "You think that I'm frightened of that damned soothsayer's visions, don't you. Afraid of the prophecy."

Corwyn's eyes widened. "But, sir, I ever said-"

Maliss grunted, picked up a knife from the cluttered floor, and with an easy flick of his wrist, embedded it in the rat's head. "Bastard," He hissed.

--Simon Gilnom--

He staggered backwards and thumped against the wall, leaving a long, bloody smear as he slid slowly downward into a sitting position. Simon grimaced and put his fingers into the thin, deep wound. His vision was sliding in and out of focus in sporadic waves. "Why..." Rallah hurried to his side and put her paws around the wound. It was bleeding badly, but what was worse was that the blood flow was slowing, meaning that Simon was running out of blood.

She tore off the bottom of her tunic and tied it just above the wound, making a tight tourniquet. "Simon, we need a healer," she said. His dulling eyes were half-shut, no longer the bright orange as before, and he coughed, "Then find one..."


	15. The Newcomer of Redwall: Chapter 14

The Newcomer of Redwall

**Book 2 Combustible: The ability to burn (or Wolf's bane)**

Chapter 14

**--Rallah Kheme--**

Simon was comfortably tucked away, safe in one of the corners of the kitchen. He had fallen asleep moments after her last words to him, his breaths were slow and shallow. He was on the very edge of death, and...

And this was hardly a time to be standing and thinking. She needed to find Kilel and have her heal Simon. But where in this huge damned Abbey was she going to find the two creatures?

**--Maliss--**

He tossed to corpse of the dead rat out into the dry, moonlit grass. The night itself was slowly winding down, and the first purple touches of dawn were just starting to stain the eastern sky. Maliss knew that the day would only stay sunny for a short while, he could smell a storm brewing to the west. And that was just fine with him. He could use the rain to wash away what the rat had said.

"It bothers you, huh?"

Maliss whirled, his swords coming up to the ready to see...

"The human's twin," the wolf said, crossing his arms to slide the blades in the scabbards at his hip.

"Yeah," Ross grunted, "That's me."

Maliss brushed past the doppelganger and into the tent, saying, "I'll have nothing to do with you, child. Go back to your brother."

Ross's hand shot out and wrapped around Maliss's upper arm. Their eyes locked, one pair in shock and the other in cool control. Ross smiled softly, and that smile sent chills of dread down Maliss's spine. "We're going to talk, you and I, wolf."

**--Basil Stag Hare--**

His head hurt. A lot.

Every heartbeat hurt, sent pulses of red through his eyes. He knew, also, that if he moved, he would explore hitherto unknown realms of pain. He lifted his head and body up, muffling a howl of anguish behind his throat. _This...is...TERRIBLE!_ He thought, moaning thickly and getting to his feet.

He turned his head and spat what he was sure was part of a tooth out of his mouth and opened his eyes to pitch darkness. Basil's paw fluttered out to find the wall, thinking back...His last memory was getting shoved back by the otter female, but at the last second he saw something... something _deeper_ than Kalil, something that might have been hugely important.

He grimaced as he scuffed a toe in the dark, sending a flare of pain up from his headache. He shifted his foot slightly, dragging it on the ground so not to step into anything else, and heard something shift that hadn't been there before. His digits crunched up against the wood of the door and he swore deeply. Shaking the tingling feeling out of his paw, he gravitated his paw to the location where the handle should be. He pulled inward to the rattle and clank of metal on metal on stone on wood. The light that poured in from the slowly opening door showed that the neat and orderly racks of weapons had caved inward on one another, right where he had been laid out.

_Great seasons..._ He thought, _I could have been killed four times over!_ A small knife nicked his big toe. He hopped over the valley of blades and into the hallway, crouching and looking up and down the dark portal. _How long was I out?_

"Hurr..."

His ears swiveled to the grunt. A mole had made it out? He turned slowly, rising to his full height to greet the mole, possibly Durral, the female friend of Foremole's cousin. "Durral, old bean, I-..." Durral's fur had started to bald, showing the places blades or claws had cut her. The female was hunched down, baring claws that no longer seemed made for digging but instead cutting and eviscerating. They were sharpened down to a fine point, and stained black with something...

More moles, looking similar to her, stepped out of the blackness. Basil's eyes flickered into the darkened armory. There was a sword, just within reach. The rabbit and the mole looked straight into each other's eyes. In his were weariness, pain, and experienced mistrust. In hers was a dead glaze of gray that sized him up as nothing but prey. "Durral, old girl, please...Don't make me do this." Her lips pulled back to show sharpened eyeteeth, and gums of diseased blue, and grunted again, "Hurr..."

Basil saw the seven other moles grouping behind her. _The hallway is narrow; they can only attack two at a time. _They charged, he let all the weight off of one foot and lunged for the blade's handle.

**--Simon Gilnom--**

He giggled thickly, feeling light-headed and sleepy. The tourniquet had worked...A little. _Stay awake._ "Noo..." he groaned. _Yes, _came his inner reply.

He coughed once and scratched at the wound on his shoulder. "It iches." _It's infected. Keep your goddamn hands off of it._ "Oh...Fuck you." He dug his fingers into the wound deeply, clawing through muscle and against bone to scratch. It hurt like a bitch, but felt so good at the same time.

Suddenly, strong, slender, cool fingers wrapped around his flexing wrist and pulled his arm. His fingers twitched and writhed, parts of bloody veins and arteries hanging from under his fingernails. His eyes opened, blurred, showing the figure of a human girl. Her face was perfect, beautiful, and behind her closed eyes glowed the infinite cosmos. "You're...Sleeping," he whispered, to which she smiled and nodded.

"Yes," she replied, "Yes, I am sleeping, Simon." Her cool hand draped over his gaping wound tenderly. "And you shall sleep, too," she whispered, and Simon thought that was the best goddamn idea he'd heard in days.

He slept.


End file.
